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Poets' Corner, Westminsj'er Abbey 



THE MAKING 



OF 



ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Ji 



WILLIAM m'^CRAWSHAW, A.M. 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE 
IN COLGATE UNIVERSITY 



■ Watch what main-currents draw the years." 

— Tennyson. 



BOSTON, U.S.A. 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 

1909 



Cisr 



Copyright, 1907, 
By D. C. Heath & Co. 



48 65 55 

AUG 25 1942 






PREFACE 

The author's main purpose has been to write a compact 
yet broadly suggestive historical introduction to English 
literature for use by students and by general readers. The 
method is somewhat different from that ordinarily pursued. 
In the first place, direct and separate discussion of general 
English history has been avoided, in the belief that so 
brief a book on literature ought not to turn aside for a 
moment from its proper aim of treating great literary 
works, personalities, and movements. Yet opportunity 
has been constantly sought to suggest and imply the his- 
torical background indirectly through the literary treat- 
ment, and an outline of historical facts and movements 
has been furnished in the Appendix. In like spirit, bio- 
graphical details have been given mainly for the sake of 
their significant relation to the literature. This principle 
has been applied with moderation and restraint and with 
care to avoid forcing its application to unwise extremes. 

Unity has been given to the discussion by a reasonable 
emphasis upon the great life forces which from age to age 
have determined the general character of English litera- 
ture, and by a continuous endeavor to illustrate the work- 
ing of those forces through a discussion of leading authors 
and works. The purpose has been to present the spirit 
of the literature as well as the essential facts, the great 
movements as well as the individual writers. Here again, 
the author has kept in mind the danger of extremes, and 
has sought to avoid urging general principles beyond the 
clear evidence of historical fact. Exceptions and indi- 



iv PREFACE 

vidual peculiarities have been duly noted, and the aim has 
been to make clear the relation of each writer to the gen- 
eral movement, whatever that relation might be. Within 
such limits, the discussion of great literary impulses is fully 
justified, and ought to prove suggestive and stimulating as 
well as unifying. 

Each chapter marks a chronological advance on the 
preceding chapter, except in the last book. There, for 
reasons suggested in the text, the three chapters deal with 
three separate departments of the literature of a single 
period — prose, the novel, and poetry. The titles of the 
various books and chapters are in harmony with the pur- 
pose to make the volume a discussion of literature and 
literary movements rather than of general English history. 
Various helps to more extended study are given in an 
Appendix, where they may be easily referred to in con- 
nection with the treatment of each period, but where they 
will not interfere with the continuous reading of the text. 

W. H. C. 

Hamilton, New York, 
November 6, 1906. 



CONTENTS 

BOOK I 

PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY {440-1066) 
CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

Anglo-Saxon Pagan Poetry (449-670) 3 

CHAPTER n 
Anglo-Saxon Christian Poetry (670-871) .... 14 

CHAPTER III 
The Anglo-Saxon Prose Period (871-1066) ... 25 

BOOK II 

RELIGION AND ROMANCE {1066-1^00) 

^ CHAPTER IV 

The Anglo-Norman Period (i 066-1 360) . . . • 35 

CHAPTER V 
The Age of Chaucer (1360-1400) 55 

CHAPTER VI 
The Fifteenth Century (i 400-1 500) 75 

V 



vi CONTENTS 

BOOK III 

RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION {1^00-1660) 

CHAPTER VII 

PAGE 

Beginnings of Renaissance and Reformation in England 

, (1500-1579) 87 

CHAPTER VIII 
The Age of Shakespeare (i 579-1 625) . . . , -99 

CHAPTER IX 
The Age of Milton (1625-1660) 153 

BOOK IV 

CLASSICISM {1660-1780) 

CHAPTER X 
The Age of Dryden (i 660-1 700) 179 

CHAPTER XI 
The Age of Pope (i 700-1 740) 196 

CHAPTER XII 
The Age of Johnson (i 740-1 780) 221 

BOOK V 

INDIVIDUALISM {1780-1832) 

CHAPTER XIII 
The Age of Burns (i 780-1 800) .251 

CHAPTER XIV 
The Age of Wordsworth (i 800-1 832) 269 



CONTENTS * vii 

BOOK VI 

DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE {i832-i8g2) 
CHAPTER XV 

PAGE 

The Age of Tennyson — Prose (i 832-1 892) . . . 337 



CHAPTER XVI 

The Age of Tennyson — The Novel (i 832-1 892) . . 359 

CHAPTER XVII 

The Age of Tennyson — Poetry (1832-1892) . . . 382 

APPENDIX 

Chronological Outline of English Literature . . 410 

Reading and Study List 417 

Aids to Study 428 

INDEX i . 455 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey . . . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Facsimile of First Page of Beowulf Manuscript . facing 3 

After Zupitza. 

Ebbsfleet, Isle of Thanet 13 

Facsimile of a Page of Judith Manuscript . . facing 14 

Cotton Vitellius A, XV, British Museum. 

Inscription in Runes 24 

Goransson : Bautil — Kyrko-mur, No. 44. 

Facsimile of Page of Manuscript of Alfred's Cura 

Pastoralis . , facing 25 

After Skeat's " Twelve Old English Manuscripts." 

Reduced Facsimile from Manuscript of Saxon Chronicle 34 

British Museum. 

Facsimile of Leaf of Layamon's Brut . . . facing 35 

Cottonian Manuscript, British Museum. 

Lady Chapel, Glastonbury ..o .... 54 

Built 1184-1189. 

Geoffrey Chaucer . facing 55 

From Ellesmere Manuscript of Canterbury Tales. 

The Canterbury Pilgrims . . . . . . facing 70 

After the painting by William Blake. 

Reduced Facsimile Page from Malory's Morte d'Arthur, 

1529 facing 75 

From the edition by Wynkyn de Worde. 

Representation of a Mystery Play 86 

From Sharp's " Coventry Mysteries." 

Sir Thomas Wyatt facing 87 

From a drawing by Hans Holbein (1527-1543). 
ix 



X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

The Globe Theater . . 98 

After a drawing in the British Museum. 

The Chancel of Stratford Church, showing Shake- 
speare's Bust facing 99 

From a photograph. 

Stratford-on-Avon . . . • . . . facing 122 

From a photograph. 

Interior of the Swan Theater . . . . . .152 

After a sketch made in 1596. 

John Milton facing 153 

Christ's College, Cambridge . . . . . •.178 

John Dryden facing ij^ 

Elstow Church and Green, 1658 195 

After an old print. 

Alexander Pope facing 196 

Pope's Villa at Twickenham 220 

From an old print. 

Samuel Johnson . facing 221 

Robert Burns . . . . . . . . facing 2^1 

William Wordsworth . . . . . . facing 269 

Graves of Keats and Severn ...... 327 

Old Protestant Cemetery, Rome. 

Alfred Tennyson . . . . ... . facing 328 

Macaulay's House in London 336 

Thomas Carlyle facing 342 

After the portrait by Whistler. 

The Birthplace of Carlyle, at Ecclefechan . . . 358 

Charles Dickens facing 359 

Thackeray's House in London 381 

Where " Vanity Fair," " Pendennis," and " Esmond " were written. 

Robert Browning facing 382 



THE MAKING OF 
ENGLISH LITERATURE 



THE MAKING OF ENGLISH 
LITERATURE 

BOOK I 

PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY {44g-io66) 

INTRODUCTORY 

Literature is one of the fine arts — it is language used 
for those ends of emotion, imagination, and beauty which 
are sought by the painter, by the sculptor, and by the 
musician. More important still, literature — Literature 
like all other art — is an outcome and an ex- and Life 
pression of human life — of human experience in the past, 
of human activity in the present, and of human aspiration 
for the future. In any historical study of literature, it 
is this intimate relation between Hterature and life that 
calls for especial emphasis. 

The greater part of literature is directly or indirectly 
the product of individual men and women. Therefore the 
most immediate living fact to be regarded is the fact of 
personality. Behind the book is the man ; and by knowl- 
edge of the man and his experiences, we may account for 
the character of the book. Behind all individual life, how- 
ever, is the life of a whole people ; and in the collective 
character and life of the race, we may discover Literature 
the larger forces that have gone to the making and the Race 
of its literature. A thousand minor influences act and 
interact toward the production of the representative works 
of a racial literature, but these forces all spring ultimately 



2 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

out of the racial life. This racial life is like a great river. 
It has many tributaries and many currents ; but no tribu- 
tary, however great, is so important as the main stream, 
and no cross-currents or counter-currents prevent the on- 
ward movement of the strong central flood. Nevertheless, 
the race undergoes many experiences and is affected by 
many influences ; and if we can observe the forces that 
have strongly modified its life, we shall see some of the 
guiding impulses that have determined its literature — not 
otherwise. In a word, to arrive at the deepest causes of 
literary creation, we must consider the racial character 
and the potent influences that from age to age have shaped 
that character and determined the direction of its activities. 
It is not to be supposed that a great guiding impulse 
will serve to account for a whole age and for all that is in 
Guiding i^j ^^^ ^^.ch individual genius and for all that he 
Impulses i^as achieved. To account for all literary phe- 
nomena, we should need to understand all the eddies and 
currents of racial and national life, all the startling and 
inexpHcable facts of literary personality. All that we can 
assume is that there are great forces which give a certain 
degree of unity to the multitudinous variety of life and 
literature, and that these forces do mark for us the central 
current of the great literary stream. To observe the 
guiding impulses that have shaped the life of the English 
race will be to learn much concerning the secret of that 
long and stupendous process, the making of English 
literature. 



MJi • vim 

" r-' ■ if -I ' /ftf^ 

b-j^me-^ofj* opx: fc^4;^ feepn^ fcertWf 
-Ifi^cimj moneij-u mavmiui mtx^^o ^ixV^ 

I f^L (c^z: i^unh&i ]ie]>^r pjicpite- S^l^ 

■; c^^i lij loi'h jui^e- liy|i4Ui fcoUe-. soinl?a??-' 

I: xyl-h^n fmf^oh cynw:^- '^^^^n e:.ifc-jia raf 
>•-■ i^c^t cairie^ ^^"^"5 u^^eatlham Kn?e ;^ocl J 

_■ fen-^e pice copj top p.e pv|iai'ddrmce or% •■ 

|| Iipile- him |?<^* Up||ia3^^^ril)ijt^|aa^Lte?> 

^;;- ppl^ ape poit^ddpc W^ui^m^4|£€Hi *| 



:>% 



Facsimile of First Page of Beowulf MS. 
Zupitza 



CHAPTER I 

ANGLO-SAXON PAGAN POETRY (449-670) 

Just how or when or where the literature of the Enghsh 
race began, no man can surely say. The Teutonic ances- 
tors of the Enghsh came originally from the continent of 
Europe. They belonged to three related tribes — the 
Tutes, the Saxons, and the Angles — and dwelt 

•' ' ° Racial and 

in the Danish peninsula and along the coast of Literary 
the North Sea to the southward. They began "^^°^ 
their conquest of Britain about the middle of the fifth cen- 
tury, and gradually extended their sway over what is now 
known as England — the land of the Angles. It seems 
altogether probable that these Teutonic invaders brought 
literature with them from across the sea, and that they 
still continued to cultivate it in their new home. 

We know little of the life and history of that early day, 
but of the general character of the people and of the ideals 
that guided their life and thought we can be reasonably 
sure. We find the mind of the race dominated by the 
conceptions of Teutonic paganism and its heart p^gan 
stirred by the passion for conquest and wild ad- Heroism 
venture. It was a mighty religious spirit, moving out 
along the lines of heroic achievement. The principal Teu- 
tonic deities were Tiw, the god of war ; Woden, the strong 
and terrible father of the gods ; Thor, the god of thunder ; 
and Friga, the great mother. Their names still remain in 
our Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. The 
supreme rehgious virtue was physical bravery. The Val- 
kyries, daughters of Woden, rode over the battle-field, 
selected those who were to die, and conducted the souls of 

3 



4 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

the heroes to Valhalla, the hall of the slain, there to feast 
with the gods in immortal joy. It was a religion whose 
dominant note was one of war and heroism. It was, 
moreover, a gloomy religion. Over both men and gods, 
hung the boding shadow of Wyrd, or Fate, and the prin- 
ciple of evil was at last to whelm all in darkness and 
cold. The conception was a mythological reflection of 
the northern night and winter overcoming the more genial 
forces of nature. By such a religion and by such ideals 
was the race moved ; and the oldest English literature finds 
here its primary guiding impulse. 

The existing remnant of this pagan literature stands 
quite by itself in Anglo-Saxon literary history. In bulk, 
Earliest i^ is almost insignificant. A mere handful of 

Literature poems, Only one of which is of any considerable 
length, makes up the extent of its treasures. Yet it bears 
unmistakable evidence of the spirit which created it. It 
has been worked over by Christian hands, and the old 
gods have vanished from it ; but the heroic spirit of Teu- 
tonic paganism is still there, and Wyrd still hangs like 
a dark cloud over the life which it depicts. ' Brief space 
will suffice to make such a survey of its substance and 
character as will illustrate its pagan tone and give ad- 
ditional insight into the conditions under which it was 
produced. 

Certain portions of the so-called Charms represent a 

form of folk-poetry that may be as old as the Teutonic 

mn. «,. race, and some of their lines carry us back to a 

The Charms ' •> 

period too remote even for conjecture. They 
embody the folk superstitions of a remote heathenism, 
handed down among the common people and so tenacious 
of life that the church of a later time could not abolish 
them and was driven to baptize them into Christian service. 
In their present form they belong to a much later period 
and contain an unusual amount of Christian interpolation. 



ANGLO-SAXON PAGAN POETRY (449-670) 5 

They form a group of about a dozen short poems or verse 
incantations to be recited on various occasions, and they 
are accompanied by prose directions as to certain cere- 
monies to be performed in connection with the recital. 
Among others are charms for bewitched land, for a stitch 
or sudden pain, for swarming bees, for lost or stolen cattle. 
In the charm for bewitched land, one line appears to ad- 
dress some long-forgotten earth-goddess : 

Erce, Erce, Erce, eorhan modor, 
Erce, Erce, Erce, mother of earth, 

and a little further on is an appeal to the earth itself : 

Hal wes J?u, folde, fira modor, 
beo bu growende on godes fsebme, 
fodre gefylled firum to nytte. 

Hail to thee, earth, of all men the mother, 
Be thou growing in the bosom of god, 
Filled, for the use of men, with food. 

The conception of earth as being made fruitful in the em- 
brace of the god is thoroughly pagan, and illustrates the 
way in which the CAarms YQ^QCt old popular superstitions. 
Aside from certain portions of the Charms^ probably 
the oldest piece of Anglo-Saxon poetry is that known as 
Wzdsi^ or the Far-Traveler. It purports to 
be the song of a scop or poet, who is called 
Widsi(5, and who relates his travels in many lands and the 
great events which he has heard of or seen. The persons 
and events referred to give evidence of the antiquity of 
the poem. Its literary value is small ; but as the earliest 
complete poem of the literature, and as a description of the 
life of an Anglo-Saxon scop, it is of priceless worth. It is 
thus that our first English poem begins : 

Widsi^ ma)?olade, wordhord onleac, 
se be monna masst masgba ofer eor>an, 
folca geondferde : oft he on flette gebah 



6 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

mynelicne majj^um. Him from Myrgingum 
aejjelo onwocon. 

Widsi^ spoke, his word-hoard unlocked, 
The man who o'er earth the most of nations 
And people had traversed : oft took he in hall 
A friendly gift. From the folk of the Myrgings 
His origin sprang. 

After the recital Qf his wanderings and experiences, it is 
thus that the poet concludes : 

Swa scrij^ende gesceapum hweorfa'S 
gleomen gumena geond grunda fela, 
l^earfe secga-S, jponcword spreca^S, 
simle su5 oW^e norS sumne gemeta^ 
gydda gleawne, geofum unhneawne, 
se >e fore dugube wile dom araeran, 
eorlscipe sefnan, oj? }>aet eal scsece^, 
leoht and lif somod : lof se gewyrce'S, 
hafa^ under heofonum heahfaestne dom. 

Thus wandering on through the wide creation, 
The minstrels travel through many lands, 
Tell their need, speak their thank-word, 
Ever south or north with some one meet 
Who is skilled in songs, unsparing in gifts, 
Who before the host his fame would raise, 
Manfully act until all shall depart. 
Both light and life : who lives for honor 
Hath steadfast glory under the stars. 

It is the warrior blood as well as the poet blood that 
speaks in such words as these. And such is the typi- 
cal Anglo-Saxon scop — a man with the fierce nature and 
roving disposition which made his kinsmen the fight- 
ers and adventurers and conquerors of their time, which 
made them also the true ancestors of a race that has been 
without a superior upon the field of battle and has con- 
quered and colonized to the ends of the earth. Here, also, 
is the spirit that delights to sing as well as to conquer — 



ANGLO-SAXON PAGAN POETRY (449-670) 7 

the spirit that has made England even greater in the 
realm of poetry than in the arena of action. 

In The Lament of Deor we have still another poem deal- 
ing with the scop and his experiences. Deor, Hke Widsit5, 
has tasted the joys of the poet's life, but he has The Lament 
lived to see himself superseded and his rewards 0* ^^or 
usurped by a rival more skilled or more fortunate. He 
gives utterance to a bitter personal grief ; but he strength- 
ens his heart with the thought that as the heroes of story 
have endured great sorrows, so he may endure his. 
Of the names mentioned, some are found in Widsid. 
Some also appear in the Germanic legend of G7idrim, thus 
furnishing one of the rare points of contact between the 
early poetry of the Anglo-Saxons and that of the Germans 
and Scandinavians. The poem is remarkable for being in 
strophic or stanza form. It is doubtless the oldest lyric in 
the literature. In each of five stanzas the poet mentions the 
sorrows of some famous person and closes with the refrain : 

pass ofereode, Msses swa maeg. 
That passed over, so also may this. 

In the sixth and last stanza, he discloses the nature of his 
own personal grief and closes with the same refrain. The 
poem bears with it the atmosphere of the old pagan hero- 
ism, and the poet displays the same enduring temper that 
animated his warrior kinsmen. 

The chief business of the scop was not to enlarge upon 
his own joys and sorrows, but to celebrate in epic song 
the deeds of the heroes. This is well illustrated by 
the three poems yet to be considered. The The Fight at 
first of these is a mere fragment of about fifty ^innsburg 
lines known as The Fight at Finnsbitrg. It introduces us 
abruptly into the very heart of a fierce and bloody con- 
flict, and breaks off again in the midst of its spirited de- 
scription. We have no pictures of old Teutonic battle that 



8 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

are more vivid and intense, and few that are more poetical. 
We learn more about the general story from the song of a 
scop in Beowulf, but the battle is not there described. 

Waldhere is also a mere fragment of a longer epic poem. 
There remain but two disconnected leaves, each contain- 
ing thirty-one lines from different parts of the original 
work. The story involved is that of Walter of 

W3.1dh6r6 

Aquitaine ; and this is the only known example of 
the transference into the Anglo-Saxon pagan poetry of any 
part of the Norse-German epic cycle. Probably there were 
many cases of the same kind ; and these inconsiderable 
fragments gain much of their interest as revealing to us 
the earlier association of Anglo-Saxon and German heroic 
legends. 

We come now to the greatest poem of the Anglo-Saxon 
literature either pagan or Christian. Beowulf is the oldest 
extant heroic poem in any Germanic tongue. 
In a conservative estimate, we may attribute the 
conception of the poem to the sixth century, and its com- 
pleted form to the close of the seventh or the beginning of 
the eighth. Many parts of the poem are much older and 
carry us back to the period before the Anglo-Saxon con- 
quest of Britain in the fifth century. The substance of the 
narrative relates it to the history and legend of the Teutonic 
tribes upon the continent. All its heroes, all its scenes, 
and all its events are continental. 

The poem falls naturally into two main parts, and the 
first of these falls again into two. The stories involved 
are first those of Grendel and Grendel's dam, and later 
that of the fiery dragon. In the first part, we are told 
how Hrothgar, the Danish king, had built a famous and 
beautiful mead-hall, called Heorot, or Hart, from the 
hart's horns that adorned its gable roof. There the old 
king lived in peace and joy with his warriors. " There 
was harp's sound, clear song of the scop.'' Soon all this 



ANGLO-SAXON PAGAN POETRY (449-670) 9 

joy was disturbed by the nightly attacks of a hideous and 
powerful monster named Grendel, who came from the fens 
and fastnesses by the sea. For twelve years the Danes 
endured the utmost misery. At last a thane of Hygelac, 
king of the Geats, came to their rescue. This was the 
hero Beowulf. The description of his voyage with his 
fourteen followers shows the love of the old Teutons for 
the sea and its perils. Beowulf was welcomed at a great 
feast, where mead flowed freely and the warriors were 
entertained with the song of the scop. Wealhtheow, 
Hrothgar's queen, passed the cup to each with her own 
hands and greeted Beowulf with gracious words. At last 
the Danes departed to their rest, leaving Beowulf and his 
warriors alone in the hall. *' No one of them," says the 
poet, *' thought that hence he should again his dear home 
ever seek out." Soon Grendel came. He tore Beowuif and 
the door from its hinges. Fire glared from his ^^^^^^^ 
eyes. He laughed a terrible laugh as he looked upon the 
sleeping warriors. One of them he tore limb from limb 
and drank his blood. Then he encountered Beowulf. 
The hall groaned with the conflict, and the mead-benches 
were overturned. Swords would not bite into Grendel's 
flesh ; but at last the monster's arm was torn from its 
socket, and he rushed away hurt to the death. There 
was great rejoicing at Heorot, with feasting, gifts, and song. 
The second part of the first main division of the story 
introduces another monster, Grendel's dam. Coming 
by night to avenge her son, she was fiercely attacked, 
but seized Hrothgar's dearest warrior and bore him away 
to death. Beowulf determined to attack her in her den. 
Arming himself, he plunged into the sea and „ ,^ , 

° » r & Beowulf and 

sank to the bottom. There the frightful hag Grenders 
seized him and bore him away to her sea cave. 
Finding his sword useless, he cast it away and grasped 
her with his hands. He fell under her and escaped death 



10 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

only because of his trusty corslet. Regaining his feet, he 
seized an old magical sword that was lying in the cave 
and struck a despairing blow. The sword cut into her 
body and felled her dead. He cut off the head of Gren- 
del, whose body was lying there in the cave, and swam up 
again to the surface of the sea. The Danes had departed, 
judging from the bloody sea that he had been slain. Only 
his own followers waited despairingly for their lord. They 
were greatly rejoiced at his return, and all departed to 
Heorot. After feasting and gifts and pledges of friend- 
ship, Beowulf returned to his own country. There he 
was welcomed by his king, Hygelac, to whom he related 
his adventures. With the account of the presents ex- 
changed between the two, the first main division of the 
poem closes. 

The second main division deals with events that took 
place in Beowulf's old age. He had then been king for 
Beowulf and fifty ycars. A fiery dragon, robbed of the treas- 
the Dragon ^^^^ ^^^^ which it kept guard, was ravaging and 
destroying the country. Beowulf's palace was burnt, 
and the old warrior went with twelve men to attack the 
dragon. With a presentiment of his approaching end, he 
bade farewell to his followers one by one and went alone 
to the fight. He was unable to wound the monster with 
his sword, and suffered much distress on account of its 
fiery breath. His followers fled instead of coming to his 
assistance — all but Wiglaf , who rebuked the cowards and 
hastened to his side. Wiglaf's wooden shield was burnt, 
and the young warrior sought protection under the iron 
shield of Beowulf. They finally succeeded in slaying the 
monster; but Beowulf was poisoned by its breath, and 
Death of Wiglaf brought the treasures from the dragon's 
Beowulf hoard that the old king might see them before 
he died. The body of the dragon was shoved over the 
edge of the cliff into the sea. The warriors built a funeral 



ANGLO-SAXON PAGAN POETRY (449-670) 11 

pyre on a high promontory and burnt there the body of 
Beowulf. Then they made a great mound on the steep,, 
high and broad, "for the sea-goers to see from afar." 

Swa begnornodon Geata leode 
hlafordes hryre, heorSgeneatas ; 
cwaedon baet he waere wyruldcyninga, 
manna mildust and raonJ)W£emst, 
leodum liSost and lofgeornost. 

Thus then mourned the men of the Geats 

The fall of their prince, the hearth-companions ; 

Said that he was among worldly kings 

The mildest and most humane of men, 

Most kind to the people and eager for praise. 

Thus ends our greatest Anglo-Saxon poem, with this 
picture of the ideal king, vahant, tender, and loving the 
praises of men. Beowulf is a noble poem, worthy to stand 
in the forefront of a great literature. The life significance 
described is essentially that of our Anglo-Saxon o^^eowuif 
forefathers, although neither Saxons nor Angles are men- 
tioned. It is a picture of royal courts, with the king, the 
wise men, the nobles, the warriors, the women, and the 
singers of songs. It is a story of adventure by sea and 
land, of battle, of feasting, of song, of treasure-giving. It 
is an authentic portrayal of the old Teutonic past ; and 
here the pagan heroism, the pagan gloom, and the pagan 
sense of fate find adequate expression. The fight of 
Beowulf against Grendel, and Grendel's dam, and the 
fiery dragon, is the fight of the heroic spirit against those 
evil forces of nature which loomed so large in the religious 
imagination of our forefathers. 

It has been already implied that the Anglo-Saxon pa- 
gan poetry has in the course of time undergone important 
modifications. Handed down from scop to scop and from 
scribe to scribe through generations and centuries, change 
was inevitable, and we cannot now say how far it has 



12 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

departed from its original shape. In thought, in language, 

and in poetic form it has become more or less closely 

assimilated to the Christian poetry. Metrical 

Form of ^ -' 

Anglo-Saxon laws are substantially the same for the whole 
°^ ^ body of Anglo-Saxon verse. The metre is based 

chiefly upon accent and alliteration. Each line is divided 
into two parts, and in the ordinary metre each half line con- 
tains two accented syllables. The number of unaccented 
syllables in a foot varies from none to five. The law of 
alliteration demands that two or more of the accented 
syllables in any line shall begin with the same consonant 
sound or with any vowel sound. The number of alliter- 
ating syllables in a line may be two, three, or four; but 
there must be at least one in each half line. The common 
rule gives two in the first half line and one in the second. 
This metre has a peculiar effect, and could be greatly 
varied by increasing or decreasing the number of unac- 
cented syllables. It is strongly rhythmical and yet singu- 
larly flexible. The accented syllables probably coincided 
with rhythmic strokes upon the harp, while the irregular 
number of unaccented syllables gave the singer great 
fr,eedom in improvisation. The feature of alliteration 
seems very artificial; but the professional scop doubtless 
became so expert in its use as to handle it with little 
sense of restraint. 

This verse has little claim to sweetness or smoothness 
of effect. It is rather vigorous and abrupt, suggesting to the 
ear the clash of sword upon shield or the rhythmic slap 
of waves against the prow of a swaying ship. It has no 
time for elaborate ornamentation or for formal similes 
or for mere play of the fancy. The style is serious and 
style and intense. Imagination displays itself in concrete 
Spirit diction and in condensed and forcible metaphor. 

The sea is the '' whale-road," the ship is a "foamy-necked 
floater," the sun is the ''candle of heaven," the body is a 



ANGLO-SAXON PAGAN POETRY (449-670) 



13 



"bone-house," battle is "war-play," the arrow is a " war- 
adder," the chief is a "gold-friend." There is little cir- 
cumlocution, but much repetition and parallelism of 
expression, giving the effect, not of fulness and richness, 
but rather of emphasis and vehemence. In fine, the best 
Anglo-Saxon poetry is direct, concrete, vigorous, and in- 
tensely serious. It may be crude, barbaric, and unrefined ; 
but it is unquestionably the utterance of men who were 
fighters and poets as well. 




Ebbsfleet, Isle of Thanet 



CHAPTER II 

ANGLO-SAXON CHRISTIAN POETRY (670-871) 

In the Anglo-Saxon pagan poetry, and especially in 
Beowulf, there was the promise of a genuine English 
epos ; but this epos was, as Ten Brink phrases it, " frozen 
in its development." It was thus arrested, not because the 
impulses behind it were inadequate or because they were 
exhausted, but because a new and more powerful influence 
was suddenly introduced. This new influence — so mighty 
as to turn the whole tide of the literature forever into new 
Advent of channels — was the advent of Christianity. No 
Christianity ^ondcr that the pagan Uterature lost its vitality 
and failed of its natural growth. No wonder that a new 
life and a new literary development began under the force 
of an impulse so strange and so powerful, under the in- 
fluence of ideals so different and so exalted. It is pre- 
cisely the advent of great life forces like this that marks 
the beginning of new literary periods. Yet right here we 
are met by certain significant and at first sight startling 
facts. The old impulse did not immediately die out, nor 
did the new influence come quickly to supremacy. The 
spirit of pagan heroism continued to breathe through 
many a Christian poem ; and no Anglo-Saxon poem 
written under Christian auspices begins to equal in poetic 
power the essentially pagan Beowulf. 

What accounts for these facts } Many causes, doubt- 
less, but among others these. The preaching of Chris- 
Christianity tianity was necessarily slow, and paganism gave 
us. Paganism ^^^ ^^^ slowly before it. The old poetic im- 
pulses were strong and had great momentum, and later 

14 



|r«^5(2) hck^ tn^W j^ujlfT onlw 

m^be' wfe buiv^ Abbott/ \o\n» ^ 

^if^hinwaM iUtfi^ntli'S^ lidSp^^Qtis 
l^ottubd' piW0^^ utt^ifv polcna IttM»|:^ 

Facsimile of a page of Judith Manuscript 

Cotton Vitellius A, XV, British Museum 



ANGLO-SAXON CHRISTIAN POETRY (670-871) 15 

poets did not readily find new ways even when they felt 
in full measure the new influence. Most important of all, 
Christianity was essentially a foreign influence, and no 
foreign influence becomes greatly effective in the making 
of literature so long as it really remains foreign. It must 
first be thoroughly assimilated, must enter into the very 
Hfe-blood of a people, must become bone of their bone and 
flesh of their flesh. This is a process of generations, and, 
under some conditions, of centuries. Even when the 
process has been fully accomplished, the old nature is 
likely to reappear in sporadic cases. We must remember 
that the race remains the same, however powerfully it may 
have been modified. 

Nevertheless, the literary influence of Christianity is 
easily and distinctly traceable from the seventh century 
onward. Augustine, the first Christian missionary to the 
Anglo-Saxons, had come to England from Rome in 597. 
From the ecclesiastical centre which he established at 
Canterbury, Christianity spread throughout the spread of 
south of England ; and during the first half of Christianity 
the seventh century it was extended throughout the north 
by both Roman and Irish missionaries. The new religion 
henceforth infused into literature a new tone and spirit. 
It was new in a national as well as in a religious sense. 
The old pagan poetry contains no allusion to English men 
or to English scenes, and it remained for Chris- „, . ^. . 

° ' . . Christianity 

tian poets to begin the history of English litera- and Litera- 
ture in the stricter sense of the term. The first 
definite creative period in English literary history began 
in the monasteries of Northumbria toward the close of the 
seventh century. Its best work was accomplished during 
the eighth century, and it probably came to a close early in 
the ninth. During this time, and indeed throughout the 
remainder of the Anglo-Saxon Period, the great guiding 
impulse of literature is the impulse of Christianity in 



r 



16 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

Struggle with paganism. It is noteworthy that the work 
of the period now under consideration was almost ex- 
clusively poetical, and that it includes practically all of 
the Anglo-Saxon Christian poetry. The next period, as 
we shall see, was mainly productive of prose literature. 

The beginning of Christian poetry in England is marked 

by definite dates and by a definite name. The first English 

poet — the authentic father of English literature 

Caedmon 

— is Caedmon. He is supposed to have begun his 
work about 670 and to have died in 680. Later investigation 
has robbed him of much that tradition once distinguished 
with his name; but it has not yet denied his right to be re- 
garded as the first English singer of whom we have any posi- 
tive record. Our account of him is derived from Bede, the 
first great English scholar, who was born before Caedmon 
died, and who had every opportunity to know whereof he 
wrote. Caedmon was a humble brother in the monastery 
of Abbess Hilda at Whitby, on the wild northeastern coast 
of Yorkshire. He was an old man before the gift of song 
came to him ; and as he was utterly without literary train- 
ing, his poetry seemed to those about him the direct inspi- 
ration of God. One night, after he had left the feast, 
ashamed of his inability to sing like the others as the harp 
went round, he lay down to sleep in the stable of the cattle 
cadmon's ^f which he had the charge that night. In a 
Vision vision, one bade him sing. "I cannot sing," 

said he, " for this reason I left the feast and came hither." 
** Nevertheless, you must sing for me," said the stranger. 
"What shall I sing.?" asked Caedmon. " Sing the begin- 
ning of created things," was the answer. Then he began 
to sing verses in praise of God the Creator. In the morn- 
ing he made known his wonderful gift. The Abbess ex- 
horted him to enter the monastic life and had him taught 
in the Scriptures. " And all that he might learn by hear- 
ing, he remembered, and like a clean beast chewing the 



ANGLO-SAXON CHRISTIAN POETRY (670-871) 17 

cud, turned it into the sweetest poetry." *' He sang first 
of the creation of the world, and of the origin of man, and 
all the story of Genesis ; and afterward of the c^dmon's 
departure of the people of Israel from Egypt Poetry 
and their entrance into the promised land ; then of many 
other stories from the Holy Scriptures ; and of Christ's 
humanity, and of his suffering, and of his ascension into 
heaven ; and of the coming of the Holy Ghost ; and of 
the teaching of the apostles ; and afterward of the day of 
the coming judgment, and of the fear of the punishment 
of torture, and of the sweetness of the heavenly kingdom, 
he made many songs ; and also many others concerning 
the divine mercy and glory." The legend is typically 
symbolic of the beginnings of Christian influence in the 
literature. 

A small fragment of nine lines known as Caedmon's 
Hymn may contain the substance of his first csedmon's 
song. It is in Caedmon's native Northumbrian ^y^'^ 
dialect, and the manuscript is supposed to date from 737, 
little more than half a century after his death. Here, if 
anywhere, we may feel that we are almost in the very 
presence of Caedmon, at the fountain head of native Eng- 
lish song. 

Nu scylun hergan hefaenricaes uard, 

metudaes maecti end his modgidanc, 

uerc uuldurfadur, sue he uundra gihuaes, 

eci dryctin, or astelidae. 

he aerist scop aelda barnum 

heben til hrofe, haleg scepen : 

tha middungeard moncynnaes uard, 

eci dryctin, aefter tiadae 

firum foldu, frea allmectig. 

Now ought we to praise the prince of heaven's kingdom, 
The Maker's might and the thought of his mind, 
The work of the Father, since he of all wonders, 
Eternal Lord, the beginning established. 



1 8 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

. First did he shape for the sons of mankind 
Heaven as a roof, the holy Creator ; 
Then the middle-world did the warden of men, 
The eternal prince, after prepare 
As a dwelling for men, the Lord Almighty. 

Then the manuscript adds, Primo cantavit Ccedmon istud 
ca7'men. 

The so-called Junian Manuscript contains a series of 
poems once collectively known as Caedmon's Paraphrase. 

This poetry answers in a general way to Bede's 
monianPara- description of what Csedmon wrote, but it is 

uncertain whether any of it can really be traced 
back to Caedmon. The first part of the manuscript con- 
tains three poems, known as Genesis, Exodus, and Daniel, 
The second part contains a series of poems on the Fall 
of the Angels, the Harrowing of Hell, the Resurrection, 
the Ascension, Pentecost, the Day of Judgment, and the 
Temptation. Genesis is a paraphrase of the first book of 
the Bible up to the sacrifice of Abraham. It treats the 
Creation freely, but follows closely the remainder of the 
Scripture narrative. It has been divided into two parts. 
Some critics assign " Genesis A " to Csedmon, but " Gen- 
esis B " is commonly attributed to a later hand. Exodus 
is much freer and more poetical in its treatment of the 
Bible story. It deals with the departure from Egypt, the 
flight of the host, and the passage through the Red Sea. 
This is usually not attributed to Caedmon. Daniel is a 
close paraphrase of the first five chapters of the Book of 
Daniel. Its interest centres in the deliverance of the 
three Hebrews from the fiery furnace, and it closes with 
the feast of Belshazzar. This is much inferior to the 
other two poems in poetical merit, and it is probably 
not the work of Caedmon. The remainder of the manu- 
script consists of paraphrases from the New Testament 
and from the apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus. The 



ANGLO-SAXON CHRISTIAN POETRY (670-871) 19 

poems seem to show the work of various hands, and some 
fragmentary portions may possibly belong to Caedmon. 

These so-called Caedmonian poems differ from anything 
else in the literature. If not produced by Casdmon, they 
belong to his school and were written by men familiar 
with his work and inspired by his example. We may 
therefore form some fair conjecture as to the 
quality of his poetry, even if we possess next caedmonian 
to nothing of his actual work. It shows many °^ ^ 
characteristics of the old pagan poetry, especially in the 
more heroic passages. The accounts of the Deluge and 
the passage of the Red Sea mingle the old Teutonic spirit 
with the newer spirit of Christianity. How different Caed- 
mon was from the pagan scop, we may readily see. He 
was no wanderer through far lands, no singer at boisterous 
feasts, no seeker of princely gifts, but simply an humble 
monk who sang to the glory of God and with a sense of 
divine inspiration. 

We have already had occasion to mention Bede, who is 
as truly the father of English learning as Caedmon is the 
father of English song. His voluminous and The vener- 
scholarly works in Latin do not belong strictly ^^^® ^^^^ 
to English literature, much less to English poetry. His 
lost translation of the Gospel of John associates him with 
Anglo-Saxon prose ; and he even gains a slight connec- 
tion with poetry by virtue of five lines of verse known as 
Bede's Death Song. His disciple, Cuthbert, relates that 
Bede sang many things during his last illness, and among 
others, this brief song in English. It is a pleasure thus to 
associate with religious poetry the name of the old scholar 
who wrote the Ecclesiastical History of the E7iglish People, 
and who has there given us our account of the first 
English poet. 

Bede tells us that the followers of Caedmon were many, 
and we still possess a number of poems that seem closely 



20 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

related to the Caedmonian school. One of the finest of 
these is Judith. It is based upon the apocryphal Book 
of Judith, and a greater or less portion of it has 
been lost. Three books and a fragment re- 
main. These tell of the drunken revelry in the Assyrian 
camp, the slaying of Holofernes by Judith, her return 
with the head of the heathen prince, the attack of the 
Hebrews upon their drunken and leaderless enemies, the 
defeat and slaughter of the Assyrians, and the rich plunder 
of their camp. The subject affords opportunity for those 
descriptions of feasting, battle, and victorious celebration 
which make the pagan poetry so vivid and poetical. The 
unknown author of Judith has been able to mingle with this 
pagan vigor the loftier charm of the Hebrew story, and his 
poem must have seemed to him in some sense typical of 
the conflict waged in his own day between Christianity and 
Teutonic paganism. He was a genuine poet, with unusual 
power in description, in narrative, and in characterization. 
Other poems of the Caedmonian school are inferior to 
the Judith^ but are informed with the same spirit. They 
are wholly religious in purpose — sometimes with 
Christian outbursts of Spiritual fervor, as in the Prayer and 
the Song of the Three Children in the Fiery 
Furnace from Azarias and the Caedmonian Daniel ; some- 
times with flashes of the grim Anglo-Saxon imagination, as 
in the Address of the Soul to its Body ; sometimes tediously 
didactic, as in A Father's Teaching. One of the most in- 
teresting fragments is an inscription from the so-called 
Ruthwell Cross, still preserved in the parish church at 
Ruthwell in Scotland. The cross is supposed to speak and 
vividly depicts its emotions at the hour of the crucifixion. 
Anglo-Saxon poetry is for the most part epic in charac- 
ter. In the five so-called elegies, we have the 
egies j^gg^j.gg^ approach that the eighth century can 
offer to the independent, personal, and really poetical lyric. 



ANGLO-SAXON CHRISTIAN POETRY (670-871) 21 

They are to some extent Christian in tone ; but they also 
carry on the pagan tradition and remind us in many ways 
of the older poetry. The Wanderer has not a few points 
of likeness to Widsid. It is a lament for dead friends and 
vanished happiness, for the desolation of the world and the 
sorrows of men. The speaker has lost his dear lord and 
kinsmen, and has been forced to wander in far ways seek- 
ing a happiness which he does not find. The poem is 
artistically conceived and executed, and has no superior 
among the shorter Anglo-Saxon poems. The Seafarer is 
full of the old pagan love for the sea. Vivid pictures are 
presented of the dangers and delights of the sailor's life, 
and there are charming indications of a genuine love for 
nature. The latter part of the work passes into a tone of 
didactic moralizing which somewhat mars the effect of an 
otherwise fine poem. TJie Ruin is a fragment of excellent 
poetry. Its subject is a ruined city, identified by some 
with the ancient Roman city of Bath. The description of 
the ruined heaps, with hoar frost on the stones and with 
hot springs weUing out among them, is of great interest. 
The Wife's Complaint and The Husband's Message are 
almost alone among Anglo-Saxon poems in their expres- 
sion of the passion of love. In the one, a woman left to 
sorrow and disgrace tenderly laments her absent lord. In 
the other, a wandering husband sends a message written 
on a piece of wood, conveying to his loved one a reminder 
of their long-continued affection, and bidding her come to 
him over the sea. 

A new school of religious poetry grew up during the 
latter half of the eighth century, and its leader was 
Cynewulf. He was more nearly allied than was Caed- 
mon to the old scop. The pagan poets sang of 
mythical heroes and warriors ; his heroes were 
the saints. They described deeds of adventure by land 
and sea ; he carries his heroes through battles and voy- 



22 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

ages and perils for the sake of their faith. The gentler 
spirit of Christianity has not altogether superseded the 
fierce and aggressive valor of heathenism. His saints 
know how to suffer, but they also know how to fight. 
He seems to have wandered like WidsiS, and to have 
known the favor of a gracious lord. In his youth, he was 
gay and wild, a lover of sports and war and poetry, de- 
lighting in love and beauty, but caring little for rehgion. 
In later life came suffering, followed by seriousness and 
repentance. He tells us that he had led a sinful life ; but 
after severe struggle, he appears to have found comfort 
in religion and in the writing of religious poetry. It is 
not improbable that both he and Caedmon were heathens 
in their youth and that they represent in their own indi- 
vidual lives the great transition from the old religion to 
the new. 

In four poems have been discovered series of runic let- 
ters concealing the name of Cynewulf. These, then, may 
cynewuif's ^e regarded as his authentic works. Elene is 
Signed Poems ^j^g g^^j-y ^f ^j^e finding of the true cross at 
Jerusalem. The Emperor Constantine, after his conver- 
sion, sends his mother, Helena, to seek for the cross. 
She is successful after many hindrances, and builds a 
church on the spot where the cross is discovered. At 
the end of his narrative, Cynewulf reflects upon his work, 
upon the future judgment, and upon his experiences as a 
man and as a poet. It is into this personal passage 
that he has woven the runes that conceal his name. In 
Juliana, Cynewulf has told the story of another female 
saint. She is a Roman maiden who remains true to her 
faith in spite of the persecutions of her father and her 
lover, and in spite also of the wiles of the devil. Her 
fidelity is sealed by a triumphant death. Crist deals with 
the Nativity, the Ascension, and the Last Judgment. It 
lacks artistic completeness and unity, but contains some 



ANGLO-SAXON CHRISTIAN POETRY (670-871) 23 

of the finest poetical passages to be found in Anglo-Saxon 
literature. We receive the impression of a series of re- 
lated poems, gathered about the personality of Christ ; 
and the work is remarkable as containing features of epic, 
lyric, descriptive, and even dramatic poetry. The Fates of 
the Apostles is a brief poem, reciting the fates of the 
twelve apostles in a not very poetical fashion. 

A number of other interesting poems have been asso- 
ciated with the name of Cynewulf, and it seems probable 
that they were written either by him or by men The school of 
of his time and school. GtLthlac tells of the Cynewuif 
life and death of an EngHsh saint. Andreas^ one of the 
best of Anglo-Saxon narrative poems, relates the adven- 
tures of the Apostle Andrew among the cannibal Merme- 
donians. The Phoenix describes the fabled bird that was 
able to rise from its own ashes, and makes it an allegorical 
type of the resurrection of Christ and his saints ; it is 
remarkable among Anglo-Saxon poems for its tenderness 
and beauty, and none is less tinged with pagan ideas. 
The Descent into Hell deals with Christ's visit to hell 
between his death and resurrection, in order to rescue the 
spirits in prison — a theme congenial to the old English 
mind for centuries. One notable poem. The Dream of the 
Rood, differs much from these, but reminds us in many 
places of the earlier verses from the Ruthwell Cross. It 
is a description of the cross seen in a vision, and voices 
a passionate adoration. 

It seems probable that most of the poetry thus far 
considered was written in Northumbria. It has come down 
to us, however, not in the Northumbrian but in Language of 
the West-Saxon dialect. This fact is due to the *^® Poems 
incursions of the Danes, who devastated Northumbria and 
practically annihilated her learning and literature. Schol- 
ars and poets took refuge in Wessex, and the surviving 
fragment of Northumbrian poetry was translated into 



24 



PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 



West-Saxon. The Northumbrian originals being lost, the 
poems have been preserved only in their West-Saxon form. 
How much loss the Danish invasion meant for Anglo- 
Saxon poetry can never be told. The change from one 
dialect to another is a matter of minor importance. The 
real loss is that so much poetry and so much of knowledge 
about this poetry should have been swept away forever. 




Inscription in Runes 
Goransson : Bautil-Kyrko-mur, No. 44 








1: 









u ^ 









^c|t^%j:i^;ft|.r= pl.t 

t^^ r-^g , ^ iy^ ^ C-— ,j=: ^, ^.-c. 3^! I r^ 



\0 !>> '• Sp ;!rv£-j 



Si O 
j5 > 



CHAPTER III 

THE ANGLO-SAXON PROSE PERIOD (871-1066) 

During the centuries that intervened between the com- 
ing of Augustine in 597 and the accession of King Alfred 
in 871, Christianity had won its battle against the old 
Anglo-Saxon heathenism and had established its ideals in 
the minds and hearts of the English people. The church 
had laid her foundations, had fixed her pillars, and was 
patiently rearing her great superstructure. Nevertheless, 
the conflict between Christianity and heathenism „^ . ^. .^ 

•' Christianity 

was by no means at an end. Up to this time it and Heathen- 
had been mainly a conflict against heathenism 
within, an effort to transform a pagan people into a 
Christian people. From this forward it was mainly the 
conflict of Anglo-Saxon Christianity against Danish 
heathenism coming in upon it like a flood from without. 
In a very true sense, then, the guiding impulse of litera- 
ture during the present period is still the impulse of 
Christianity struggling to maintain its ground and to 
continue its progress in the face of heathen aggression. 
The form of the conflict has changed ; the spirit of it 
remains essentially the same. The religious note is 
unmistakably dominant in literature throughout the whole 
period. The educational work of Alfred in the ninth 
century is moved by the desire for the rehgious and moral 
elevation of his people. ^Ifric, in his homilies and lives 
of the saints and Scripture translations, carries on the 
same spirit into the early part of the eleventh century. 
Wulfstan is stirred by a passion of religious zeal and 
prophetic warning of God's punishment for sin. Even the 

25 



26 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is touched by the same great im- 
pulse ; for its interest is largely ecclesiastical, and its most 
notable passages record the warfare of English Christianity 
against the terrible assaults of the Danes. To save the 
people from ignorance and barbarism by religious effort, 
to repel the attacks of heathen foes — these are the domi- 
nant ideas of the later Anglo-Saxon literature. 

It is to be noted that the conditions are decidedly less 
favorable for literary production than in the older days. 
Effect on Lit- To Set up the Christian ideal and strive to give 
erature j^ ^j^g mastery in heathen hearts, to see the new- 

faith winning its way and diffusing the light of a higher 
civilization — that is full of inspiration — that can make 
poets as well as preachers and teachers. To fight an 
almost despairing struggle against heathen hordes, to 
labor almost against hope to save a Christian people from 
falling back into the brute and Christian civilization from 
sinking beneath a deluge of barbarism — that may awaken 
religious zeal and heroic courage, but it can hardly inspire 
poetic enthusiasm. The literature of the present period is 
therefore almost wholly in prose — the work of preachers 
and teachers and chroniclers. It is religious, but it is not 
inspired. 

The earliest prose writings in England were in Latin, 
and there is no considerable prose literature in the English 
tongue until the ninth century, after the poetical period 
had come to a close. Bede, in addition to his voluminous 
Latin writings, had completed an Anglo-Saxon translation 
of the Gospel of John ; and if this had been preserved, the 
history of Enghsh prose would begin with the early part 
Early West- of the eighth century, and in Northumbria. As 
Saxon Prose j^- jg^ ^\^q earUest extant prose literature is in 
the form of West-Saxon legal documents and entries in the 
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle ; and the first important period of 
prose writing is in the reign of King Alfred, 871-901. 



THE ANGLO-SAXON PROSE PERIOD (871-1066) 27 

This is known as the Early West-Saxon Period. Its Htera- 
ture is almost wholly in prose. It gathered up and pre- 
served the poetry of the past, but it did not add to our 
poetical treasures. In addition to its important contribu- 
tions to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle^ its chief works are those 
which are associated with the name of King Alfred himself. 
Alfred is the true father of English prose, as Caedmon 
is of English poetry, and as Bede is of English learning. 
He is so in a double sense ; for Alfred was not 

' , 1 . King Alfred 

only a royal patron of letters, but was also him- 
self the only important prose-writer of his time. When he 
began to make headway against the Danes, the strength 
of England gathered about him as the true preserver of 
the land against its foes. Poetry came from Northumbria 
to take on under his protection a West-Saxon form, and to 
be preserved and handed down to posterity. The monas- 
teries became again the seats of learning and culture and 
education. A new literature, which was to be hencefor- 
ward chiefly in prose, grew up around Alfred's court at 
Winchester. It is, of course, in the West-Saxon dialect, 
as the great body of Anglo-Saxon literature continued to 
be until its final extinction after the Norman Conquest. 
It is with Alfred the writer that we have here chiefly to 
do, and our thought of the great king must be simply the 
background to the picture. 

We must acknowledge that Alfred was not a great 
literary genius or even a great original writer. Pie pos- 
sessed, however, a clear, simple, vigorous, and Alfred as a 
interesting style ; and the literature of the thou- ^^^^^^^^ 
sand years which He between his day and ours reveals no soul 
more simple, earnest, reverent, and devoted than that of the 
royal father of our English prose. His literary work con- 
sists principally of four notable translations from the Latin. 

One of these is the Cura Pastoralis, or Pastoral Care, 
of Pope Gregory the Great. It has for its object to show 



28 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

what the mind of a true spiritual pastor ought to be ; 
and the translation of it was part of Alfred's effort to 
Alfred's Pas- improve the intellectual and spiritual condition 
total Care ^^ j^-g bishops and lower clergy. The pref- 
ace, written by Alfred himself, is by far the most in- 
teresting part of the work, and in some respects the most 
interesting part of Alfred's writings. It gives a graphic 
picture of the lamentable condition of religion and learn- 
ing in England when Alfred came to the throne, and 
shows clearly the lofty and intelligent purpose that was in 
the king's mind to bring about a better state of affairs. 

A translation of Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the 

English People has also been commonly attributed to 

Alfred. This was, in fact, the first history of 

Alfred 'sBede ' ' ■' 

England, and its translation may well have been 
part of Alfred's general scheme for the instruction of 
his people. Among other things of great interest, the 
translation contains Bede's famous account of Caedmon, 
together with a West-Saxon version of Caedmon's North- 
umbrian Hym7i. 

Still another of Alfred's works was the translation of 
Boethius' 07i the Consolation of Philosophy. Alfred adds 
Alfred's Boe- ^ preface, in which he gives an account of Boe- 
thius thius, whom Gibbon has called " the last of the 
Romans whom Cato or Tully could have acknowledged for 
their countryman." His work was held in great esteem, 
not only in Anglo-Saxon times, but throughout the Middle 
Ages, by the church and in the monastic schools. 

The other notable translation of Alfred was a Universal 
History from the Creation to the Year of our Lord 416 
Alfred's oro- written by a Spanish monk named Orosius. 
sius This translation, like the others, is made with 

considerable freedom. Alfred introduces a geographical 
description of Europe north of the Rhine and the Danube, 
which is the only contemporary account of the Germanic 



THE ANGLO-SAXON PROSE PERIOD (871-1066) 29 

nations as early as the ninth century. In particular, he 
gives the narrative of two travelers, Ohthere and Wulf stan, 
who, he tells us, had visited his court and related to him 
the story of their voyages. One of them had sailed 
around the North Cape and as far as the White Sea. The 
other had traveled in the Baltic along the northern coast of 
Germany. 

It seems probable ^ that from a very early time monks in 
various monasteries had begun to make brief and bare rec- 
ords of contemporary events. The oldest annals Angio-saxon 
are both scanty and broken ; but gradually the ^^^o^i^^^^ 
years skipped became fewer and the accounts fuller and 
more connected. An interesting entry for the year 755 
has been called ''the oldest piece of historical prose in any 
Teutonic tongue." About 855 was undertaken a general 
revision of the earlier annals. Gaps were filled up, new en- 
tries were made in existing accounts, and detailed narratives 
were added of some of the more striking events. The 
record was also carried back to the landing in Britain of 
the first Teutonic invaders under Hengist and Horsa in 
449. The Winchester Chronicle, in its fuller revised form, 
was existing when Alfred came to the throne in 871. Al- 
fred's wars with the Danes furnished an inspiring subject 
for the historian, and for many years the annals are con- 
tinuous and usually very full. In Alfred's last years a new 
revision of the Chronicle was made, either by Alfred him- 
self or under his direction. The record from 894 to 924 
is supposed to be the work of a single writer. His name 
is unknown, but all historians have united in praising the 
animation and vigor of his style. As we shall have oc- 
casion to note later, the Chronicle was continued until 
after the Norman Conquest. We may further observe here 
that it remains to us in seven different texts made in 
different monasteries, that it is the oldest native history 

1 Ten Brink's English Literature, I, p. 72. 



30 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

in any Teutonic tongue, and that it is an indispensable 

source of information to the modern historian of England. 

Before passing on to consider the prose work of the 

Later West-Saxon Period, we may here briefly notice what 

_ ^ was beins: accomplished in the poetical field. 

Later Poetry & r r- 

It is small enough in amount, but not altogether 
negligible. There was poetry of a sort in Alfred's day 
and later ; but for the most part it lacks the old vitality 
and power. Once and again, the old heroic note is 
heard, and there are at least two poems that possess a 
high order of merit and are not unworthy to rank with the 
best of the older poetry. One is known as the Battle of 
Bfunanburh^ and is inserted in the Chro7iicle for the year 
937. It is a song of triumph for the victory of the 
West-Saxons under ^thelstan and Edmund, grandsons 
of Alfred, over the North Danes under Anlaf and the 
Scots under Constantine. The other is called the Battle 
of MaldoUy and is even finer in quality. It is a record 
of the fight of the East-AngHans against the Danes in 
the year 991, and seems to have been written so soon 
after the battle that the poet does not even know the 
name of the Danish leader. It is interesting to observe 
that the events of actual history can on occasion furnish 
as true poetic inspiration as heathen myth or Christian 
legend. One of these poems celebrates a great Christian 
victory over heathen invaders, and has therefore a theme 
full of poetic suggestions. The other records a defeat at 
the hands of heathen foes, and finds its poetry in the 
splendid valor which despises cowardice as it despises 
death, and which rejoices to fall in heroic battle about a 
beloved chief. Both poems reflect in a clear and striking 
way the age-long struggle of Christianity against heathen 
barbarism and show the heroic temper of the Anglo-Saxon 
race whether in victory or in defeat. With this later 
verse die away the last echoes of the noble poetry of the 



THE ANGLO-SAXON PROSE PERIOD (871-1066) 31 

Anglo-Saxons, with its pagan sternness and courage, its 
Christian faith and devotion, its poetic passion and imagi- 
nation. Not again does England hear such voices until 
she has emerged from the long night of mediaeval feudal- 
ism and ignorance into the dawn of her modern literature. 

After Alfred's death, literature rapidly declined; and 
for over half a century little or nothing was produced 
outside of the Chronicle. During the reign of Latewest- 
Edgar the Peaceful, however, from 958 to 975, saxonProse 
a new literary period began which continued until after 
the Norman Conquest. This period is known as the Late 
West-Saxon, in distinction from the Early West-Saxon 
Period under Alfred. The chief literary product of Ed- 
gar's reign is the so-called Blickling Hojnilies, Biickiing 
written about 971. The homily was the popular homilies 
form of religious instruction in the tenth and eleventh cen- 
turies, as it continued to be for centuries later. It was the 
predecessor of the modern sermon in its function and to 
some extent in its form. It has the exhorting element of 
the sermon and something also of the expository element ; 
but it indulges more freely in religious narrative drawn 
from the Bible and from the lives of the saints. The 
Blickling Homilies, although they form a notable single 
collection, do not differ materially from other and greater 
works of the same class presently to be mentioned. 

About twenty years after the Blickling Homilies we 
come to the greatest of Anglo-Saxon prose-writers. ^Ifric 
was born about 955 and died not far from 1025. He was 
a man of gentle yet decided nature, cultured, learned, 
and eminently pure in life. As a writer,^ he had 
not the creative power of a great literary 
genius, nor had he fallen upon an age that was favorable 
to literary production of a high order ; but he had the 
ability to assimilate facts and ideas, to marshal them in 

1 Ten Brink's English Literature, I, pp. 105, 106. 



32 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

orderly array, and to express them in clear and effective 
style. His principal literary work is found in his Homilies. 
. These are in two series of forty each. They are based 
upon the writings of the church fathers, and include topics 
for the whole ecclesiastical year. They embody great 
theological learning, but are admirably adapted to the 
understanding of the common people. ^Ifric follows the 
fashion of his age in interpreting allegorically many things 
in the Scripture text, yet he does so with comparative 
intelligence and caution. There is a large admixture of 
the legendary and the miraculous ; but one feels also the 
childHke faith and the deep piety. Closely alHed to his 
Homilies are his Lives of the Sai?its. These were designed 
to be publicly read or delivered on the various saints' days. 
A notable peculiarity, and one which appears to a less 
extent in other works of ^Ifric, is that they are written in 
a sort of " rhythmical, alliterative prose," which approaches 
poetry without really leavings the prose level. In sen- 
timent and in picturesqueness, also, as well as in form, 
both the Homilies and the Lives of the Saints have 
occasional poetical leanings. In addition to his more 
original work, ^Elfric also takes his place among our great 
translators of the Bible. He translated the whole of the 
Pentateuch, the Book of Job, and several other portions of 
the Old Testament into clear, graceful, and vigorous Eng- 
lish. In his preface to the translation of Genesis, we see 
the lofty sincerity of his purpose and his solicitude for the 
spiritual welfare of the people. He hesitated to translate 
the book, because he feared the evil consequences of a 
popular misunderstanding with reference to the old law 
concerning polygamy. 

One contemporary of ^Ifric is deserving of personal 
mention as a writer. This is Wulfstan, Arch- 

Wulfstan 

bishop of York from 1002 until his death in 1023. 
He is the last great English writer before the Norman 



THE ANGLO-SAXON PROSE PERIOD (871-1066) 33 

Conquest. Some fifty-three Homilies have been attributed 
to him, but many of them on uncertain grounds. One 
work of his has long been generally known. This is com- 
monly called Wulfstan's Address to the English. It warns 
the people that the terrors of Danish invasion have come 
upon them because of their sins, and forebodes the coming 
of Antichrist and the end of the world. Wulfstan was 
not gifted with a great creative imagination ; but he evi- 
dently had a terrible knowledge of the sins of his age 
and described them with passionate earnestness and with 
graphic reahsm of effect. His is almost the last word of 
the Anglo-Saxon literature ; and it is charged with relig- 
ious fervor and with gloomy foreboding of the triumph of 
evil in the world. 

Into this intensely religious atmosphere, dark with 
thoughts of impending judgment and of eternal terrors, 
breathes the strange odor of eastern romance, oriental ro- 
anticipating the romantic literature which was °^^^<^^ 
to make so large a part of the poetry of the Middle Ages. 
As an illustration of this, we may mention the translation 
of the late Greek romance of Apolloniiis of Tyre. It is an 
interesting popular tale, in strong contrast with anything 
produced by the Anglo-Saxon genius. Nearly six hun- 
dred years later, Shakespeare made a part of this same 
story the basis for his Pericles, Prince of Tyre. 

Once again Danish invasion pours in its tide of war to 
submerge the Anglo-Saxon literature, and the long prose 
period comes to an end. It shows some signs of revival 
toward the middle of the eleventh century ; but then 
comes the Norman Conquest in 1066 to crush and over- 
whelm it completely. All save the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 
which continues for nearly a century more. Later An lo- 
Chronicle writing at Winchester, the old capital saxon chron- 
of King Alfred, came to an end in looi. Can- 
terbury, Abingdon, and especially Worcester then became 



34 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY (449-1066) 

prominent as centres of historical record. The Worcester 
Chronicle continued until 1079, and was the last of the 
older Chronicles. The Peterborough Chronicle, youngest 
of all, was kept up until the death of King Stephen in 
1 1 54. It shows marked changes in the language, which 
was rapidly breaking up under the combined influence of 
the Latin and the Norman French and of historical con- 
ditions. With the close of the Peterborough Chronicle die 
away the last echoes of the Anglo-Saxon literature. 




mST p/ESl7V€N 

^Dfca3i(\aEoSan da^htelcnd ^ha-ccn'heoyon yuccj- 

PC- joivma- rnona^^tnc ^olc mycel-tamwjuuj'-i Jcu**^^ k* 
^ejiwm hccon) Xti<J Vcej cmhc ^i]; mhcfcsctc(j^ 

care \(cc a ^^otmoti^ft^co^'"^'^"™"'?^ ,^ n/ 

Reduced Facsimile from MS. of Saxon Chronicle 

British Museum 



\ 











Facsimile of Leaf of Layamon's Brut 

Cottonian Manuscript, British Museum 



BOOK II 

RELIGION AND ROMANCE {1066-1300) 
CHAPTER IV 

THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 

Between the Anglo-Saxon Period, which we have just 
traversed, and the Middle English Period, upon which we 
are about to enter, there is for the student of FromAngio- 
literature a great gulf fixed. The Norman Con- M^dieEng- 
quest had intervened, and under the stress of ^^^h 
conditions created by that great historic event, literary 
utterance in the English tongue was all but silenced. For 
about a century and a half there is practically no litera- 
ture in English except the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle ; and it 
is not until near the close of the twelfth century that a 
new native literature begins to appear. The language, 
too, under similar influences, has undergone marked 
changes ; and the Middle English literature almost seems 
to be written in a new speech. Yet all these changes had 
been gradual, and the Hf e of the race had been continuous 
from the close of the one age to the beginning of the 
other. The race had passed over the gulf and had re- 
appeared on the other side, ready to take up again the 
task of expressing through literature its ever moving life. 
It had passed through great experiences and had been 
subjected to new and powerful foreign influences; but it 
had not been radically changed. Indeed, it was still essen- 
tially the same race, with much the same ideals. In a 
word, the thread of literary development had been broken 
by the accident of foreign conquest, but the thread of 
racial life had remained intact. 

35 



36 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

By what impulses shall we now find this life and this 
literature determined? The question is not so easy to 
answer as in the case of the preceding period ; for the 
situation is a more complicated one. The Norman Con- 
quest, of course, powerfully affected the conditions of Eng- 
lish national and social life ; but it was not in itself a 
great literary influence, except in the purely negative sense 
that it helped to bring the old order to a close and to hin- 
der a native literary revival. Yet the Conquest brought 
with it conditions which did in time have a positive and 
very important influence on literary production. In the 
English and Arst placc, it brought a new race into England 
Normans — ^ ^^^^ originally Teutonic, but transformed 
by the infusion of French blood into the most briUiant and 
masterful race in Europe. The Normans, moreover, were a 
romantic, an artistic, and a poetic people; and their pres- 
ence could not fail to affect literary conditions and move- 
ments. Furthermore, Normans and EngHsh were brought 
into close contact with each other in almost all depart- 
ments of life. At first the relation was one of hostility ; 
but gradually the two races drew together until at last 
the one was merged in the other. It was not the 
mingling of two equal streams ; for doubtless the na- 
tive English element was much the larger and more 
important. The old race, however, was in time pro- 
foundly modified, just as the Normans themselves had 
been modified before by their union with the French. The 
new union was a most fortunate one; for it joined the 
brilliant, emotional, and imaginative Norman temper with 
the more soHd and steadfast qualities of the Anglo-Saxon 
nature. This contact of races, in all its stages, so profoundly 
affected the conditions of Hfe and the growth of racial 
character that it necessarily exerted a dominating influence 
on literature as well. Indeed, we may fairly say that the 
literature of the whole Middle English Period, and espe- 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 37 

cially of what we have here called the Anglo-Norman 
Period, was mainly shaped and controlled — perhaps we 
may add, to some extent repressed and hindered — by the 
relations which existed between two races, two languages, 
two national and literary ideals. 

In order to appreciate still more definitely the impulses 
now working toward the making of literature, we must ob- 
serve the direction in which the genius of each race was 
urging it to literary expression. The English literary 
temper was still, as it had been throughout the 

. . . English 

Anglo-Saxon Period, chiefly religious. Under Religious 

... , . . . -, Temper 

the existing conditions, it seems natural to expect 
the utterance of a national or racial passion, asserting 
English sentiment against alien conquerors. This Enghsh 
spirit does find voice, to some extent, in songs and ballads ; 
but the dominant note is a religious one. It is as though 
the race had accepted its lot and was seeking compensation 
for its woes in the consolations of its religion. Indeed, 
there is comparatively little of English literary protest 
against Norman rule ; and the patriotic note is strongest at 
a time when Englishmen and Normans were sufficiently 
united to feel a common pride in a common country. 

As contrasted with English religious feeling, the Norman 
literary temper was essentially romantic. When William 
the Conqueror advanced against the English army 
at the battle of Hastings, the Norman minstrel, Romantic 
Taillefer, rode in front, tossing his sword in '^®™p^^ 
the air and catching it again while he chanted the Song" 
of Roland. He was the first to strike and the first to fall. 
The Norman valor was there, but there also was the Nor- 
man romantic spirit. The incident is finely symbolic of 
the new element which the Normans were to bring into 
English literature. 

We may say, therefore, that the literature of the Middle 
Enghsh Period was guided, not merely by the contact of 



38 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

two races in one national life, but by the double impulse of 
religion and romance. These two forces were not hostile 
Religion and ^^ each other ; for English religion was in some 
Romance degree romantic, and became ever more and 
more so under Norman influences, while Norman romance 
was in large measure religious, and took on a deeper re- 
ligious tone through its contact with the English mind. 
The two literary streams tend finally to run in the same 
channel. No more typical example could be found than 
the Arthurian legends, which by the addition of the story 
of the Holy Grail are exalted into great religious romance. 
The mediaeval cathedral is also a type of this same union. 
In no creation of man is there a more impressive com- 
bination of religious solemnity and awe with romantic mys- 
tery and beauty. Indeed, are not the Middle Ages the 
world's treasure house of romance, and do they not at 
the same time furnish the world's supreme illustration of 
popular religious faith .? 

We shall get the best clue to a comprehension of the lit- 
erary history of this Anglo-Norman Period by conceiving of 
literature as movinp: along two lines which s^radu- 

Religious and & o o 

Romantic Lit- ally tend to merge into each other. On the one 
side is the religious literature, for the most part 
purely native in form and in spirit. The line runs from 
Orm in the early part of the thirteenth century to Lang- 
land and Wyclif in the latter part of the fourteenth. Over 
against this purely native work we find the romantic lit- 
erature which grew up under Norman-French inspiration. 
The line here runs from Layamon at the beginning of the 
thirteenth century to Chaucer at the close of the four- 
teenth. The religious literature is mainly in poetry, but 
there is some prose of the same character. Romantic lit- 
erature is almost wholly poetical, though there are a few 
prose tales. Where romance leans toward history, it is 
likely to be more English ; where it is mainly fanciful, it is 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 39 

more likely to be French. Especially on its more fanciful 
side, most of the romantic literature is translated from 
French originals. An important difference between 
purely native poetry and that which is affected by French 
influence is seen in the form of the verse. The old Anglo- 
Saxon alliterative measure, in a modified form, still con- 
tinued to exert an influence upon the verse of purely English 
poems. Alongside of this grew up a more strictly metri- 
cal verse, following Latin and French models. In Anglo- 
Saxon poetry, rhyme was of very infrequent occurrence ; 
now it became a recognized feature of poetic expression. 
Modern Enghsh poetry has been affected by both metrical 
systems, but it is chiefly based upon the French scheme. 

In a period covering so large an extent of time and 
having such various lines of literary interest — English 
and Norman, rehgious and romantic, prose and Method of 
poetic — it seems best to keep even pace T""®^^™®^* 
with the steady onward march of literary progress. 
The following outline of the Anglo-Norman literature 
will therefore deal with the various representative works 
so far as possible in a chronological order, indicating the 
relation of each to the separate but ever coYiverging lines 
of literary development. It is desirable, however, to keep 
constantly in mind the two great racial sources — EngHsh 
and French — from which this literature springs, and the 
two great impulses — religious and romantic — by which 
its character is determined. 

There is evidence that the making of English literature 
did not altogether cease during the century or more suc- 
ceeding the Norman Conquest, but practically nothing of 
importance has remained to our time. With the exception 
of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which continued until 11 54, 
most of the extant literature of that time is of two kinds, — ■ 
histories and chronicles in Latin, and romantic stories in 
French. It is interesting to observe that historical writ- 



40. RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

ings — including the Anglo- Saxoji Chroiticle itself — tend 
to become more and more romantic in character. Toward 
the close of the twelfth century, English literature proper 

begins to revive. It is chiefly in the form of 
iousLitera^' Scripture translation and homily, thus remind- 
tuj'e ing us of the latest Anglo-Saxon literature ; and 

its tone is that of religious moralizing. A typical produc- 
tion is the Poema Morale, or Aloral Ode. It is found in a 
collection of homilies, and is itself a sermon in verse on 
the inevitable requital hereafter of men's good or evil 
deeds. It is not without poetic merit, and gains an added 

interest from its somewhat personal tone. A 

Moral Ode . ^ 

brief specimen will show something of this 
and will also enable us to observe the decided change 
that has taken place in the language : 

Ich aem elder l^en ich wes a wintre and a lore ; 
Ic waelde more Jeanne ic dude, mi wit ah to ben more. 
Wei lange ic habbe child ibeon a weorde end ech a dede ; 
peh ic beo a wintre eald tu ^yng i eom a rede. 

I am older than I was in winters and in lore ; 
I wield more than I did, my wit ought to Idc more. 
Full long I have been a child, in word and eke in deed ; 
Though I be in winters old, too young I am in reed. 

In the metre there is a free but not regular use of the 
Anglo-Saxon principle of alliteration. On the other hand, 
we find rhyme and a more regular rhythm here recognized 
as established features of versification. 

The first important poem of the Middle English Period 
Layamon's ^^ Layamon's BnU. What we know of Laya- 
^^^ mon is contained in the introduction to his 

poem : 

An preost wes on leoden : la^amon wes ihoten. 

he wes leouena'Ses sone : liSe him beo drihten. 

he wonede at ernle^e : at se^elen are chirechen. 

uppen seuarne sta]?e : sel l^ar him l>uhte. 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 41 

on fest Radestone : ber he bock radde. 

Hit com him on mode : & on his mern bonke. 

bet he wolde of engle : ba ae'Selaen tellen. 

wat heo ihoten weoren : & wonene heo comen. 

ba englene londe : aerest ahten. 

aefter ban flode : be from drihtene com. 

lajamon gon li'Sen : wide ^ond bas leode. 
& biwon ba ae^ela boc : ba he to bisne nom. 
he nom ba englisca boc : ba makede seint Beda. 
an ober he nom on latin : be makede seinte albin. 
& be feire austin : be fiilluht broute hider in. 
boc he nom be bridde : leide ber amidden. 
ba makede a frenchis clerc : wace wes ihoten. 

********* 
la^amon leide beos boc : & ba leaf wende. 
he heom leofliche biheold : libe him beo drihten. 
feberen he nom mid fingren : & fiede on boc felle. 
& ba sobe word : sette to gadere. 
& ba bre boc : brumde to are. 
Nu bidde'S la^amon 

alcne aebele mon : for bene almiten godd. 
bet beos boc rede : & leornia beos runan. 
bat he beos so^feste word : segge to sumne. 
for his fader saule : ba hine forS brouhte. 
& for his moder saule : ba hine to monne iber. 
& for his awene saule : bat hire be selre beo. 

Amen. 

A priest was in the land who Layamon was named. 
He was Leovenath's son, the Lord be good to him. 
He lived at Ernley, at a lordly church 
On the Severn's shore (good there it seemed), 
Near to Radestone ; there books he read. 
It came into his mind, and his main thought, 
That he would of the English the origins tell. 
What they were called and whence they had come 
Who English land first had owned. 
After the flood which came from the Lord. 
********* 

Layamon fared far among the folk, 

And obtained the noble books which he took for a pattern. 



42 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

He took the English book which Saint Bede made ; 
Another he took in Latin which Saint Albin made, 
And blessed Augustine who brought baptism hither. 
The third book he took, laid it there in the midst, 
Which a French clerk made who Wace was called. 



Layamon laid down these books and turned the leaves. 
He lovingly beheld them, the Lord be good to him. 
Pen he took with fingers, and wrote on parchment, 
And the true words set together, 
And the three books threw into one. 
Now Layamon asketh each excellent man 
(For Almighty God's sake) 
Who reads this book and learns this record, 
That these sacred words he say together : 
For his father's soul who brought him forth, 
And for his mother's soul who bore him a man, 
And for his own soul, that it be the safer. 

Amen. 

This is the old Anglo-Saxon alliterative metre, and the 
diction is also thoroughly English. In spite of its close 
contact with foreign models, the long poem is said to con- 
tain fev^er than fifty French words. English patriotism 
and English religious feeling are clearly manifest; and yet 
the poem is a curious compound of foreign influences. Of 
Layamon's the " three books " which he mentions as the 
Sources basis of his work, Wace was his chief authority ; 
and Wace's work was based upon Geoffrey of Mon- 
mouth's History of the Kings of Britain, written in Latin 
about the middle of the twelfth century. Geoffrey was a 
Welsh priest who afterward became Bishop of St. Asaph; 
and his work purports to be a history of British kings 
from the time of their mythical ancestor, Brutus, or Brut, 
the great-grandson of iEneas the Trojan. It was, in fact, 
a very imaginative compilation of Welsh legends ; and its 
extremely romantic character is well indicated by the fact 
that it contains the stories of many legendary kings since 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 43 

well known to readers of later poetry. Such are Locrine, 
Gorboduc, Cymbeline, Lear, and Arthur. Geoffrey's work 
is the fountain head of the Arthurian legends, than 
which there are no greater romantic stories in English 
literature. On the basis of Geoffrey's history, Wace, a 
native of the island of Jersey, wrote in French his Brut 
cTAngleteJTe, or Brutus of England. This is the work which 
Layamon took, about 1205, and expanded to more than 
twice its original size. He tells us that he traveled far 
and wide among the people ; and doubtless his nearness 
to Wales had familiarized him directly with Welsh leg- 
endary lore. His additions are the best part of the 
poem. EngHsh himself, he enters readily into the ro- 
mantic mood, tells the story of British kings after a 
French poet, and betters it in the telling. His work is 
interesting for its language ; for its assimilation of Welsh 
and Norman influences ; for its romantic character ; and 
not least for the fact that it was the first to naturaUze 
in the EngHsh tongue the great story of King Arthur 
and his Knights. The account of the founding of the 
Round Table appears for the first time in Layamon's 
Brut. 

As Layamon is the first notable writer of romance in 
Middle English, so Orm is the first known writer of re- 
ligious verse. Orm was a pious monk who orm's ormu- 
paraphrased in verse the portions of the Gospels ^"^^ 
appointed to be read at the church services and interpreted 
these passages often in a fanciful and allegorical manner. 
He begins thus : 

piss hoc iss nemmnedd Orrmulum, forrM J^att Orrm itt wrohhte. 
This book is named Ormulum, because Orm wrote it. 

The work has no real poetical value, but it gains a certain 
interest by virtue of its quaintness and its rehgious ear- 
nestness. To the student of the language, the work is of 



44 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

unusual value because of Orm's interest in his orthography. 
His chief peculiarity is the doubling of the consonants 
after short vowels. The language at this time was broken 
up into dialects, grouped into three general divisions, — the 
Northern, the Midland, and the Southern. Orm's dialect 
is East-Midland, and has an admixture of Scandinavian 
elements; French influence is very slight. The Moral 
Ode and Layamon's Brut are both in the Southwestern 
dialect. We shall have occasion later to observe speci- 
mens of the Northern. The metre of the Oi'midiim lacks 
both alliteration and rhyme ; its scheme is that of iambic 
verse of fifteen syllables to the line. The date of the work 
is about 12 1 5. 

During the first half of the thirteenth century, literature 
written in English continued to be mostly religious. The 
example of Layamon was not much followed, and ro- 
mance still remained mostly in French. ReHgious poetry 
followed mainly the tradition set by the Moral Ode. A 
specimen of it at its best is found in the Orison of our Lady. 
. This is a lyrical adoration of the Holy Virgin, 

Poetry " Cristes milde moder, seynte Marie," and at 

times mingles the tone of a chivalrous love song with its 
tender religious devotion. It is real poetry, and well rep- 
resents the mediaeval passion of worship for the " Mother 
of God." The poetic paraphrasing of Scripture is rep- 
resented by Genesis and Exodus, The type is as old as 
Caedmon, of whom the title reminds us. A unique sort 
of work is the Bestiary. The supposed *' natures " of 
various animals are quaintly described and made the basis 
of fanciful religious allegory, so nai've as to be really amus- 
ing to a modern reader. The lion, for instance, has three 
*' natures." The first is that when from the top of a hill 
he discovers the hunters, he hastens down to his den, drag- 
ging dust after him with his tail to cover his tracks ; the 
second is that when he is born he sleeps for three days, till 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 45 

his father arouses him with roaring ; the third is that he 
never shuts his eyes in sleep. The Hon is the type of 
Christ. The Lord came down from the high hill of heaven 
and made his den in the womb of Mary, but not even that 
clever hunter, the devil, might know how he came; the 
Lord lay in the sleep of death for three days, till aroused 
by the power of the Father ; the Lord is the ever watchful 
shepherd of his flock. 

There were homilies and lives of the saints both in 
verse and in prose. Perhaps the most typical prose work 
of the early half of the thirteenth century is the Religious 
Ancren Rhule, or Rule of Nuns. It was written ^^^^^ 
for the direction and religious consolation of three pious 
women who had retired into a convent in Dorsetshire. 
The style is simple, tender, devotional, and imaginative, 
and moreover happily illustrates the union of French and 
English diction that was gradually enriching the language 
during the present period. 

English literature up to the middle of the thirteenth 
century had been comparatively barren in the matter of 
genuine lyric poetry. The lyric spirit, however, 
had been gradually developing, and at about 
this time and somewhat later there is an outburst of real 
song. It takes the form of nature poems, love songs, 
patriotic songs, and ballads. There seems here to be a 
union of French influence with popular poetic feeling. 
Representing the spirit of folk-poetry, is the famous Cuckoo 
Song : 

Sumer is icumen in, Ihude sing, cuccu ; 

Growe)? sed and blowe}? med and spring)? Jjc wude nu ; 

Sing, cuccu. 
Awe bleteb after lomb, Ihouj? after calue cu ; 
Bulluc sterteb, bucke uerte>, murie sing, cuccu. 

Cuccu, cuccu, 
Well singes j?u, cuccu ; ne swik ))U nauer nu. 



46 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

Summer is a-coming in, loudly sing, cuckoo ; 

Groweth seed and bloweth mead and springeth the woodland now ; 

Sing, cuckoo. 
Ewe bleateth after lamb, lows after calf the cow ; 
Bullock starteth, buck darteth, merry sing, cuckoo. 

Cuckoo, cuckoo, 
Well singest thou, cuckoo ; cease thou never now. 

One of the best of the love songs is Alysoun, of which 
this is a stanza : 

Bytuene Mershe & Aueril, 
When spray biginne)' to springe, 

pe lutel foul hal? hire wyl 
On hyre lud to synge ; 
Ich libbe in louelonginge 
For semlokest of alle hynge ; 
He may me blisse bringe, 
" Icham in hire baundoun. 

An hendy hap ichabbe yhent, 
Ichot from heuene it is me sent, 
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent 

& lyht on Alysoun. 

Between March and April, 
When spray begins to spring, 

The little bird hath its will 
In its song to sing ; 
I live in love-longing 
For the fairest earthly thing; 
She may me blessing bring, 

I am her very own. 
A happy chance to me is lent, 
I wot from heaven to me 'tis sent, 
From all other women my love is bent 

And lights on Alysoun. 

The love for nature, the hearty human quality, the fresh 
lyric impulse, of such verse as this, give it an enduring 
charm. It does not ally itself with the great literary move- 
ments of the age, but tends to supplement them by an 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 47 

inspiration drawn from the life and sentiment of the com- 
mon people. A poem of somewhat different character is 
The Owl and the NigJitingale. In it there is a dialogue 
between the two birds, in which each claims precedence. 
They agree to submit the matter to the poet. There is 
real poetic feeling for nature, and the poem allies itself 
with the religious literature of the time by virtue of its 
moralizing tone. 

Men turned from the religious and romantic literature 
of the age to common life, and found there not only 
inspiration for popular song, but also abundant Humorous 
material for verse tales of a comic and often ^^^^^ ^^^^^ 
coarse realism. Some were imitated from the French /<^(^- 
liaiix; some were humorous stories of animals, like our negro 
tales of Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox ; and still others were 
frankly satirical. It is interesting to see that the two 
favorite subjects of satire were found in the fields of 
religion and romance. The corruption of the clergy and 
the abuses of monastic life were held up to ridicule ; fanci- 
ful and overstrained romanticism was the subject of good- 
natured parody. Thus even this lighter and more popular 
poetry allies itself with the great Hterary interests of the 
time. It illustrates in its way the many-sidedness of life 
and literature in all periods. The most romantic age has 
its touches of realism, just as the most realistic age has its 
flashes of romance. Religion goes on its solemn way to 
the jingling of cap and bells, and the maddest laughter 
may find itself checked in mid-volley by the feeling of 
religious awe. 

With the lyric and humorous poetry we are carried 
along into the second half of the thirteenth century. It is 
a period rather barren of important literary work ; and its 
chief interest lies in the fact that French romance was 
now exerting an ever increasing influence upon English lit- 
erature. French originals were translated or imitated, and 



48 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

English themes were dealt with in the French manner. 
A good example of the French romance transferred 
Growth of into English is Sir Trish^em. It deals with the 
Romance well-known story of one of Arthur's knights, 
since handled by such great modern poets as Tenny- 
son, Arnold, and Swinburne. With the exception of 
Layamon's Brut, it is the first handling in English of 
any part of the Arthurian legends. Havelok tJie Dane is 
an English story ; but it is treated in the French manner 
and is probably copied after a French original. The 
legend tells how Havelok, the son of the king of Denmark, 
was saved from a murderous guardian by the fisherman 
Grim, who escapes with him to England, where he builds 
a house on the site of the modern town of Grimsby, at the 
mouth of the river Humber in Lincolnshire. Another 
well-known romance is Ki7ig Horn. It is thought that its 
legend of love and adventure is English in origin, but that 
the poem in its present form is derived from the French. 
Just before 1300, romance passes over into the field of his- 
torical poetry in Robert of Gloucester's rhymed Chro7iicle, 
which is a historical description of England from Brutus 
to the death of Henry III in 1272. One can not speak 
highly of its poetical quality ; but it is interesting for its 
language and metre, for its patriotic spirit, for the histor- 
ical value of some of its later portions, and because it forms 
a link between Layamon and later historical poets. It 
contains the story of King Lear. 

As we pass over into the fourteenth century, French 
romance is in full flower in English literature. It is im- 
possible to treat the multitude of romances in detail, but 
we may note that they fall into four great cycles. The 
Cycles of Ro- niost important of these is the Arthurian. We 
mance \^2.YQ observed that the story of Arthur and his 

knights was treated in Latin by Geoffrey of Mon- 
mouth, in French by Wace, in English by Layamon 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 49 

and in the romance of Sir Tristrcin. The story had been 
treated during the thirteenth century by many French 
writers ; and French genius had added the legend of the 
Holy Grail, which exalts knightly romance into great rehg- 
ious allegory. During the fourteenth century there were 
many Arthurian stories written in English. The second 
romantic cycle was the Carlovingian. Its stories deal 
with the adventures of Charlemagne and his twelve pala- 
dins. The Song of Roland, chanted by the Norman min- 
strel, Taillefer, at the battle of Hastings, was one of the 
French Carlovingian legends. The cycle in England 
was much less extensive than the Arthurian. The third 
cycle was the Alexandrian. The story of Alexander the 
Great seems to have fascinated the mediaeval imagination, 
and its ancient wonders took on the garb of true romantic 
chivalry. The fourth cycle was the Trojan. Its stories 
are connected in one way or another with the siege of 
Troy. Brutus, the great-grandson of ^neas, it will be 
remembered, was regarded as the ancestor of the British 
kings. In addition to these four cycles there were many 
separate romances. Among the most English of them, 
are Bevis of Hampto7i and Gny of Warivick. 

During the first half of the fourteenth century, as the 
two races began to draw together and as the two great 
Hterary streams began to flow freely in the channel of a 
common language, there was a noteworthy revival of 
literature. We have already observed it in the field of 
romance, and it is no less apparent in the field Religious 
of religious poetry. The earliest writer of the Poetry 
century was Robert Manning of Brunne, or Bourn, in 
Lincolnshire, who wrote in 1303 a work called Handlynge 
Synne. It is interesting as having been adapted from a 
French original written by an Englishman, and as being 
much more modern than any English hitherto written. In a 
mixture of homily and pious tale, it deals with the seven 



50 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

deadly sins, the seven sacraments, the twelve requisites of 
a good confession, and the twelve spiritual graces. Verse 
homilies and lives of the saints are common at this time, 
but the greatest religious poem is the Cursor Mundi, a 
huge work of some thirty thousand lines by an unknown 
poet. It is a religious history of the world, based chiefly 
on the Bible story, but intermingling this with many dis- 
cursive legends and homihes. The dialect is Northern. 
One scribe says of it, enthusiastically : 

J3is is J?e best boke of alle, 

pe cours of >e werlde men dos hit calle. 

Considering its immense size and scope, the following lines 
seem not inappropriate : 

Cursor o werld men aght it call, 
For almast it overrennes all. 

Still another religious poet is Richard Rolle of Hampole, 
in Yorkshire. He was educated at Oxford, but left the 
University at the age of nineteen, and adopted the life of 
a hermit. In his solitary cell, he prayed, meditated, and 
wrote. Sometimes, in a passion of religious zeal, he went 
out among the people and preached with powerful effect. 
He seems to have been a holy and an influential man ; 
and after his death, his cell was revered as a sacred shrine. 
His chief work is the Pricke of Conscience, a long poem 
dealing with the uncertainty of human life and the coming 
of the Last Judgment. His shorter sacred poems to the 
divine love are the work of a mystic and a poet. Many 
other works in prose and verse, in Latin and English, have 
been attributed to him. 

Rolle's work, as we have just implied, ranks him 
with the prose-writers as well as with the poets of his age. 
Religious His prose writings are all religious, but no 
Prose single work calls for special mention. He 

carries us along to about 1340; and to this same period 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 51 

belongs Dan Michel's Ayenbite of Tnwit, or Remorse of 
Conscience. Written in the Kentish dialect, it is of decided 
interest to the student of the language, but not much can 
be claimed for it as pure literature. It has been called " a 
popular handbook of moral theology " ; and as such, it is 
typical of the religious spirit of the age. Among its subjects 
are the ten commandments, the creed, the Lord's Prayer, 
the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and the beast of Revelation. 
Like other works of the period, it is full of allegory. 

Contemporary with the religious literature there is an 
interesting development of historical poetry, inspired by 
the ever growing national spirit. Robert of Gloucester's 
Chronicle, at the close of the thirteenth century, has been 
already mentioned as opening the way in this direction. 
This lead was followed early in the fourteenth century by 
Robert Manning of Brunne, already noted as the author 
of Handlynge Synne. About 1338, he wrote a Patriotic 
rhyming History of England. Like his religious Po^^'^y 
work, it is adapted from a French original written by an 
Englishman, thus illustrating both the importance of 
French and the growing tendency to turn to English as 
a literary medium. Manning shows no advance over his 
predecessors in recognizing the boundary between history 
and romance ; and his work is more interesting for its 
patriotic spirit than for its historical fidelity. A writer of 
a somewhat different type is Lawrence Minot, probably a 
Northumbrian, who wrote between 1333 and 1352. His 
work consists of a series of political songs or ballads on 
the battles and deeds of Edward HL They show a vigor- 
ous patriotism, but not much imagination or lyric gift. 
Minot is a true-born Englishman, and religiously hates 
Frenchmen and Scots. One of his ballads begins as follows : 

God, bat schope both se and sand, 
Saue Edward, king of Ingland, 
Both body, saul and Hfe, 
And grante him ioy withowten strif. 



52 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

The most famous single work of the period now under 
review is Mandeville's Travels. This book purports to 
have been written by Sir John Mandeville, an English- 
Mandeviiie's nian who was born at St. Albans, traveled 
Travels abroad for thirty-four years, returned to England 

in 1356, and wrote the account of his wanderings in Latin, 
French, and English. Modern criticism says that Mande- 
ville is as fictitious as his Travels. In any case, we have 
the book ; and it is the first genuinely imaginative prose 
work in the literature and the first work to have the gift of 
a real English prose style. That is much ; and no doubts 
about the author can obscure the fact that the book was 
immensely popular and that it had a most important influ- 
ence upon the development of English prose. It seems to 
be made up partly of real experiences and partly of romantic 
marvels drawn from many sources. Here are accounts of 
Asia Minor, Palestine, Egypt, Arabia, Ethiopia, Armenia, 
India, Cathay, the realm of Prester John, and the Terrestrial 
Paradise. Here are stories of dragons, griffins, hunting 
leopards, devils, giants, pygmies, Saracens, Amazons, men 
with one foot so large that they lie down in the shadow of 
it, men with a single eye in the middle of their foreheads, 
men with heads beneath their shoulders, men with heads 
like hounds, men covered with feathers, and many other 
wonders too numerous to recount. The narrative is accom- 
panied with quaint and convincing pictures of the objects 
described, and is written with a nai've realism that leaves 
little to be desired. Yet "■ Sir John " has exercised withal 
a commendable self-restraint : 

There are many other countreys where I have not yet ben nor sene 
& therefore I can not speke properly of them. Also in countreys 
where I have bene are many marvailes that I speke not of, for it were to 
long a tale and therefore hold you payd at this time yt I haue sayd, 
for I will say no more of mervailes that are there, so that other men 
that go thither may fynde ynough for to say that I haue not tolde. 



THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD (1066-1360) 53 

Four notable poems have come down to us in the same 
manuscript, and it is beUeved by some that they are all the 
work of a single poet. If this could be finally es- An unknown 
tabUshed, we should have a new and important ^°®* 
figure in the literature of the fourteenth century. Without 
accepting it as proved, we may venture to consider the 
poems together. Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight is an 
Arthurian story and one of the very best of the 

•' ■^ Gawayne and 

old romances. It represents a group of works in the Grene 
which there was a revival of the old alliterative ^^^^^* 
metre. It also unites with its romantic character a true relig- 
ious spirit. A gigantic Green Knight challenges any of Ar- 
thur's knights to strike at him with his axe and to endure a 
stroke in return. His head is smitten off by Gawayne, but he 
calmly picks it up again, challenges Gawayne to meet him 
at the Green Chapel on the next New Year's Day, and 
disappears. Gawayne meets with a variety of adven- 
tures, is subjected to various temptations, and comes at 
last to the rendezvous. The Green Knight is unable to 
do him serious injury because he has been faithful and 
true; but because he has been weak in one particu- 
lar, he receives a slight wound. The story is almost in 
the nature of a religious allegory. For originality, vivid- 
ness of narrative and description, feeling for nature, and 
high moral tone, it is far superior to most works of its 
class. The Peaid appears to be a lament of the poet 
over the loss of his little dausrhter. He sees ^^ „ , 

^ The Pearl 

and talks with her in a strange and wonder- 
ful land. From the other side of a beautiful river she 
endeavors to console him with the thought of her Hfe 
in heaven and of their future reunion there. Trying to 
cross over the river, he awakes. Not only is the work 
genuinely poetical, but it also is full of pathos and of 
personal quality. The allegory may be sometimes over- 
drawn, but in the main it is both beautiful and imagina- 



54 



RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 



Cleanness 



Patience 



tive. Cleanness is the title of a poem whose aim is to 
exalt the virtue of purity. It enforces the vir- 
tue by the use of various Bible stories which 
it handles in vigorous and poetic fashion. Somewhat simi- 
lar in manner, but less valuable as poetry, is 
Patience. It is chiefly occupied with the story 
of Jonah ; and the storm is treated in a vividly realistic 
way. 

This group of poems fittingly closes our survey of the 
Anglo-Norman Period. Here is found the union of the 
Close of the ^^^ Streams of religion and romance. Here 
Period |-}^g English and the Norman spirit meet upon 

common ground. Here is really excellent poetry, giving 
promise of the masterwork soon to appear in English 
literature for the first time. While there is no marked 
break in literary history at this point, nevertheless the 
period that is characterized by two distinct streams of 
national and literary life is practically at an end ; and we 
are at the beginning of a generation which is to produce 
poetic work that will demonstrate the literary possibilities 
of the union of English and Norman genius. 




Lady Chapel, Glastonbury 

Built 1184-1189 




Geoffrey Chaucer 

Ellesmere Manuscript of Canterbury Tales 



CHAPTER V 

THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360- 1400) 

The Age of Chaucer is like a high table-land to which 
we ascend as by a long and gradual slope through the lit- 
erature of the previous period and from which ^j^^ ^ ^^ 
we descend again somewhat abruptly to the chaucer 
literature of the period that follows. It is hardly forcing 
the figure to say that Chaucer himself rises from the midst 
of this table-land like a single, lonely peak, unmatched and 
almost unapproached. This is not to suggest that the age 
is separated by any gulf from what goes before and after. 
Quite the contrary is the case. The literary development 
is continuous, and what we have now reached is not so 
much different as it is higher and better. 

During the latter part of the fourteenth century, as dur- 
ing the two centuries preceding, religion and romance 
are still the guiding impulses of English litera- Religion and 
ture. Life is growing more complex, and many ^o^^^^e 
minor influences are making themselves felt ; the two great 
impulses are no longer so easily separable as before ; but 
these two impulses are still operative and still dominant. 
Indeed, the two literary tendencies which we have traced 
through the previous period may be said to find here their 
culmination. The religious literature, which began with 
the Moral Ode and the Ormtihim, and which ran through 
such works as the Orison of our Lady, Ge^tesis and Exodus^ 
the Bestiary, the Ancreit Riwle, Robert Manning's Hand- 
lynge Symte, the Cursor Mundi, Richard of Hampole's 
Pricke of Conscience, the Ayenbite of Inwit, Cleanness, 
Patience^ and The Pearl, is now to find a higher exempli- 

55 



56 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

fication in the works of Langland and Wyclif. The 
romantic literature, which began with Layamon's Bruty 
and which ran through such works as Sir Tristrem, 
Havelok the Dane, King Horn, the great Cycles of 
Romance, and Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight, is about 
to find a natural sequence in Gower and great poetic 
expression in Chaucer. How far religion and romance 
remain separate and how far they become united in their 
literary influence, we shall have occasion to see. 

We shall no longer have to take account of the difference 
of races, for Englishmen and Normans have now become 
People and welded into one great English people, stronger 
Language £qj. action and better endowed for literary 
creation because of the mingled blood. The duality of 
language, too, has passed or is rapidly passing away ; and 
the newer English, blending the might of two great tongues, 
is displaying its splendid powers as an instrument of liter- 
ary expression. It is to be in large measure the task of 
this generation to rescue EngUsh from the chaos of dialects 
and to create for all time a great standard speech. 

One of the greatest personalities of the age is John 

WycHf. He is famous not alone because of his literary 

work ; for as a matter of fact his name belonsrs 
Wyclif . . . . 

even more to the history of religion and religious 

thought than to the history of literature. He was first of 
all a great theologian. At the age of forty or earlier, he 
was master of BalHol College at Oxford and one of the 
recognized theological scholars of his time. After occupy- 
ing various positions in school and church, he became 
vicar of Lutterworth and occupied that benefice until his 
death in 1384. Not merely as a theologian and a church- 
man, however, does he claim our attention. A man of 
pure life and lofty character, filled with an intense religious 
zeal, he became the first great reHgious reformer. All his 
great learning was devoted to vigorous and at times violent 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 57 

controversy. His enemies abused him for his doctrines, 
deprived him of his preferments, and once summoned him 
to appear at St. Paul's in London to answer to a charge 
of heresy. Many of the greatest men of the time were 
divided into parties for or against him. One of his strong- 
est partisans was John of Gaunt, the great Duke of Lan- 
caster, son of Edward IIL Opposition only moved him to a 
greater activity, and his work became more aggressive and 
more practical. His " poor priests " went throughout Eng- 
land, preaching the gospel, inculcating the new doctrines, 
crying out against formalism and luxury and corruption 
in the church, and exhorting men to purer life and faith. 
His followers were known as Lollards. They were the 
Protestants and Puritans of their day and the forerunners 
of the great movement which we call the Reformation. 

It is through this religious activity that Wyclif enters 
into literature. He wrote theological works in Latin and 
many sermons, tracts, and pamphlets in English. -^ydifsLit- 
Most important of all, he planned and in large erarywork 
measure personally executed a complete translation of the 
Bible. By virtue of these works, he takes rank as the 
greatest English prose-writer of his century and as one 
who either directly or indirectly influenced prose style for 
some two hundred years. The various translations of the 
Bible are a most important part of English literature ; and 
Wyclif's right to rank as one of the great translators is 
beyond dispute. He was not a great literary artist, but 
he played a distinguished part in the history of English 
thought and in the development of English prose as a 
medium of literary expression. By virtue of the fact that 
he wrote and translated in order to bring home to the com- 
mon people the truths of rehgion, his style is simple, 
vigorous, and picturesque. His severe theological train- 
ing served to make it also clear, logical, and accurate. It 
is the union, therefore, of trained intelligence, intense re- 



•58 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

ligious fervor, and popular purpose that has made his trans- 
lation of the Bible our first great monument of English prose. 
Even more unique than the figure of Wyclif is that of 
Wilham Langland. Of his life and personality, we know 
very little. Some hints in his poem may possi- 

Langland . . -^ . . . 1 . 1 . i 

bly be mterpreted as autobiographic ; and on 
the basis of these, it has been customary to construct a 
more or less imaginative picture of the man. According 
to the traditional view, he seems to have been born at 
Cleobury Mortimer in Shropshire and to have been given 
a fair degree of education. Perhaps as early as 1362, he 
wrote the first version of his famous Vision of William 
concerning Piers the Plowman. Then he went to London, 
where he lived a precarious and somewhat discontented 
life, probably holding some minor office in the church. 
About 1378, he revised his poem and enlarged it to three 
times its previous size. Later, he returned to the West of 
England, and again, about 1393, rewrote his poem with 
many changes. He had much of Wyclif s religious inten- 
sity and puritanical spirit, but he was not a theological 
scholar and probably not a Lollard. There is an element 
of bitterness and misanthropy in his work which makes 
it somewhat sombre. The most interesting feature of his 
character is his sympathy with the poor and oppressed, 
and his earnest desire to better their condition and to lead 
them to a truer religious life. He was a religious re- 
former, but his concern was not so much with doctrine 
as with practical living. 

The three versions of Langland's poem differ greatly 
from each other. This variation, together with the fact 
that Langland, though a real poet, was but a poor literary 
architect, makes it somewhat difficult to present briefly 
Piers the ^ clear Statement of the contents of the work. 
Plowman jtig poem is a vision, or rather a series of 
visions. The poet imagines himself as falling asleep on 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 59. 

a May morning in the Malvern Hills, near his home. In 
his dream, he sees a "fair field full of folk," carrying on 
the various activities of the world. All are seeking their 
own selfish ends and courting the favor of Lady Meed, 
or Reward. She is the daughter of Falsehood and the 
promised bride of Flattery. Conscience and Reason are 
both hostile to her, and she stands in marked contrast 
with another fair lady called Holy Church. It was an 
evil world that Langland saw, a world full of selfishness, 
of treachery, of dishonesty, and of all manner of wrong. 
Through a series of pictures continually dissolving the one 
into the other, he continues his description. The. treat- 
ment is allegorical, yet the allegorical figures are mingled 
with real human personages, and both classes seem to stand 
upon an even footing. The chief character is Piers the Plow- 
man. At first he is a simple plowman, type of the humble 
and laborious poor. Then he is conceived as the faithful 
and lowly Christian, living a godly life himself and en- 
deavoring to lead others to the truth. Finally, he is 
exalted into a type of Christ, opposing the corrupt 
priesthood of the age and striving to bring men to a true 
knowledge of the way of salvation. This confusion with 
reference to the hero of the poem is a fair example of 
Langland's desultory method and lack of literary art. 
He simply pours out into his poem, in vigorous and 
imaginative fashion, whatever he has to say concerning 
the degraded Hfe and false religion of his time and con- 
cerning the way in which men may be saved from their 
sins. Three of his favorite allegorical figures are Do- 
well, Do-bet, and Do-best, typifying the three stages by 
which men may ascend to true godliness. They represent 
the poet's view that faith without works is dead, and that 
men need to have preached to them the doctrine of an 
honest, industrious, and godly life as the way to salvation. 
The poet is, in the main, orthodox in his faith ; and in spite 



60 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

of his gloomy view of the life of his day, he believes in the 
ultimate triumph of righteousness. One of his finest pas- 
sages is that in which he describes the victory of Piers the 
Plowman, now conceived as Christ, over Death and Hell. 
The Vision is in some sense a work of genius. Its vivid 
imagination, its note of intense personal feeling, its right- 
character of ^o^s indignation against the social and political 
the Poem ^^^ rehgious evils of the time, its spirit of lofty 
aspiration, its graphic and realistic pictures of human life, 
its occasional outbursts of fine poetry — all help to make 
it a really remarkable work. What more than anything 
else it lacks is a definite and orderly plan — that order, 
proportion, arrangement, unity, which constitute a true 
literary whole. Its form is scarcely less noteworthy than its 
matter. It is written in the old alliterative measure which 
had been characteristic of Anglo-Saxon verse and which 
had been revived in several poems of the fourteenth century. 
In this respect, as well as in its religious feeling, it is 
thoroughly English. French metrical forms, including 
rhyme, are here ignored. With Langland, the antique 
measure is heard for the last time. Since his day all Eng- 
lish poetry has been metrical and not alliterative. A few 
lines from the latter part of his poem will give a taste of 
its quality : 

A-rys, and go reuerence godes resurreccioun, 

And creop on kneos to the croys and cusse hit for a luvvel, 

And ryghtfullokest a relyk non riccher on erthe. 

For godes blesside body hit bar for oure bote, 

And hit a-fereth the feonde for such is the myghte, 

May no grysHche gost glyde ther hit shadeweth ! 

A writer in strong contrast with Langland, both in char- 
acter and in genius, is John Gower. '' Moral Gower " 
Chaucer called him, and the phrase has been 
current from that day to this. The moralizing 
tendency of Gower's work is, indeed, one of its most 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 61 

marked qualities. Moralizing poetry is apt to be both 
prosaic and tedious, and Gower's is no exception to the 
rule. Few poets are more prosy, and " the old man 
tedious " is one of his nicknames. His three principal 
works illustrate the uncertainty of the poet and of his age 
as to what was finally to be the literary language of Eng- 
land. The first of these, the Speculum Meditantis, was 
written in French. It was for a long time lost, but has 
recently been found and edited. It is a long moral poem 
on the vices and virtues. His second work, the Vox 
Clamantis, was written in Latin. It deals with the polit- 
ical conditions of the time, including the revolt of the 
peasants under Wat Tyler. Gower, as an aristocrat and 
as a landholder in Kent, had suffered from this rising, 
and wrote in a spirit of contemptuous hostility to the 
peasants. His third and most important work, the Con- 
fessio Amantis, was written in English. It is professedly 
the confession of a lover to an allegorical personage named 
Genius, and consists of a series of tales by way of illustra- 
tion. Some of these stories, notably that of the Knight 
Florent — afterward handled by Chaucer in the Wife of 
Bath's Tale — are well told; but most of them are charac- 
terized by tediousness and by what one writer has called 
''merciless and heart-breaking long-windedness." In spite 
of all hmitations, Gower is for his time a really noteworthy 
writer. He illustrates both the religious and the romantic 
tendencies of his age. He was more original than most 
of his predecessors, and taught his age some important 
literary lessons. As a professed and industrious man of 
letters, he brought together a mass of literary material 
that was full of suggestion to later poets. While less of 
a genius than Langland, he was more of a literary artist. 
His chief defects seem to have been a certain nerveless- 
ness or lack of vigor and a fatal inability to understand 
when he had said enough. His Confessio Amantis is, like 



62 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, a collection of stories ; and 
while Gower is in almost every way vastly inferior to his 
great contemporary, he at least deserves to be named with 
Chaucer as a coworker in the same literary field. 

Geoffrey Chaucer is the one great landmark of all Eng- 
lish literature before the beginning of its modern epoch in 
the later years of the sixteenth century. There 

Chaucer's , , -^ , / 

Historical is nothing to compare with his work in the long 
centuries that went before him ; there is nothing 
to compare with it for nearly two centuries after his death 
in 1400. His position is singular and unique. With him, 
the old period closes ; and with him, the great literature 
of modern England in a sense begins, although it is long 
before any others appear who are capable of following his 
leadership and carrying on his work in new and original 
ways. From his lofty height, he is a herald of the dawn, 
but it is still many hours to the full break of day. He 
appears to us at first like a great literary figure standing 
isolated ; and, indeed, he is so in the sense that he has no 
near neighbors of anything like his own stature. Yet we 
do not easily associate the idea of isolation with the name 
of Chaucer. He was in his own time a man among men, 
open on many sides to the human influences about him. 
He was, too, an organic part of the literary development 
of the whole Middle EngHsh Period. In him, the literary 
tendencies of two centuries culminate and find their su- 
preme expression. We have already observed, and shall 
have occasion to see further, that the romantic literature 
of the Middle Ages was a necessary preparation for 
Chaucer's infinitely greater achievements in the field of 
romantic poetry. He took up the work of the old ro- 
mancers and showed what such literature might be in the 
hands of a master. Then, gradually learning his art and 
maturing his genius, he went beyond anything that they 
had taught him and produced the poetry that still makes 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 63 

him a power in the world. Chaucer also has his associa- 
tions with the religious sentiment of the Middle Ages. 
He was not distinctively a religious poet, but he was a 
man of religious nature and sympathies. He directs his 
genial satire against the religious abuses of his day; he 
draws an immortal picture of a good parish priest; he 
knows how to tell a religious story with full appreciation 
of mediaeval feeling and with a poet's delight in all the 
beauty and pathos of his subject. In many ways, he 
gathers up the past and enshrines it for all time in his 
great verse. No other English poet has preserved for 
us so much of the hfe and sentiment of the Middle Ages. 
Still more emphatically is it true that Chaucer's work 
embodies the many-sided life of his own time. He was 
in touch with all sorts and conditions of men ; and they 
reappear in his pages as living types. We know their 
faces and we know their souls. With the future, too, 
Chaucer has vital connection. For nearly a century after 
his death, he was recognized as literary master and model. 
For us he still has a historical significance because of the 
permanent gains which his work achieved for the litera- 
ture and the language. More than any other one man, 
he helped to determine the modern standard of English 
speech ; with inevitable changes, it is still Chaucer's dia- 
lect that we speak to-day. Scarcely less important was 
his influence in furnishing literary models, in revealing 
literary possibilities, in establishing a literary tradition, 
and in affording literary inspiration. Few of our greatest 
writers have altogether escaped his influence. Dryden 
calls him "the father of English poetry." Tennyson 
speaks of him as 

The morning star of song, who made 
His music heard below ; 

Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath 
Preluded those melodious bursts that fill 



64 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 



^ 



The spacious times of great Elizabeth 
With sounds that echo still. 



Chaucer is great, not only by historical position, but also 

by individual genius. Many men hold a place in the history 

of the literature because they are amons: the few 

Chaucer's . ; ° 

Personal important figures of their time or because they 
mpor ance ^^^ representative of an interesting stage of liter- 
ary development. Chaucer is all this, but his fame does 
not rest upon any such considerations. Regardless of all 
merely historical estimates, the intrinsic merit of his work 
gives him a place among the few greatest poets of Eng- 
land. It is not too much to say that he is one of the great 
poets of the world ; and if he may not quite stand with the 
few supreme world poets, it is only of that crowning honor 
that he falls short. In the Middle Ages, he has no 
superior save Dante ; and if Dante is more sublime, 
Chaucer is at least more human. Indeed, in this thor- 
oughly human quality of his best work, he yields to Shake- 
speare alone. That this estimate of Chaucer's rank is 
not exaggerated, may be attested by the universal apprecia- 
tion which he has received for five centuries. The fifteenth 
century was filled with his name. In the age of Elizabeth, 
he was praised or imitated by such men as Spenser, Sidney, 
Shakespeare, and Fletcher. Milton lauded him ; and even 
in the age of classicism, he was highly appreciated by 
Dryden and Pope. The nineteenth century has endorsed 
this judgment by the mouths of its greatest poets and 
critics ; and it is safe to sa5^ that Chaucer's fame has never 
stood higher than it does to-day. 

Chaucer was born in London, probably about 1340. 
His father was a vintner, or wine-merchant, and the family 
Chaucer's was, therefore, of the well-to-do middle class. 
^^*® There was sufficient court interest, however, to 

secure for Chaucer a position — probably that of a page — 
in the household of Elizabeth, wife of Lionel, Duke of 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 65 

Clarence, the third son of King Edward III. In the retinue 
of Prince Lionel, he went in 1359 with the EngHsh army 
to France, and doubtless had opportunity to observe the 
** pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war " as it 
was waged in the mediaeval time. He had the misfortune 
to be taken prisoner, but was ransomed by the king. After 
his return to England, he was for a time valet of the king's 
bedchamber. Chaucer's association with the court was, of 
course, an important part of his education. As a page he 
would be carefully trained and taught in the company of 
other boys of higher rank than his own ; and the life of 
the court would give unsurpassed opportunity for refine- 
ment, observation, and wide knowledge of men and things. 
It need hardly be added that such a life would be full of 
suggestion to the imagination of a young poet. Chaucer 
did not receive a university education, but he had the best 
possible substitute for it and what was for his purpose 
perhaps superior. That he was a broad and careful 
scholar is sufficiently shown by his works ; and these reveal 
also that he was even more deeply versed in human life 
than in scholastic learning. His further education was no 
less practical. Between 1370 and 1380, he was sent on 
various diplomatic missions to the continent. Twice he 
visited Italy. It is easy and pleasant to indulge the 
imagination with fancies of Chaucer's delighted apprecia- 
tion of the beauties of Italian art and his congenial asso- 
ciation with Petrarch, Boccaccio, and other great men who 
were then living ; but these are mere fancies. We may 
be reasonably certain that his visits must have been a joy 
and an inspiration to such a nature. We know that his 
genius and his work were powerfully affected by Italian 
literary models. At home he was appointed controller of 
customs, retaining his office for some twelve years. In 
1386, he became member of Parliament for Kent, but his 
political career was brief and rather unfortunate. Later 



66 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

we find him acting as clerk of the king's works at West- 
minster and at Windsor. Toward the close of his life, 
Chaucer seems to have fallen into poverty. On the acces- 
sion of Henry IV, in 1399, he wrote a ''complaint to his 
empty purse," which he addressed to the king in these words: 

O conquerour of Brutes Albioun, 
Which that by lyne and free eleccioun 
Ben verray king, this song to you I sende ; 
And ye, that movven al our harm amende, 
Have minde upon my supplicacioun. 

The appeal was successful; and Chaucer's pension was 
doubled, thus placing him in comfortable circumstances 
for the few remaining months of his life. He died in 1400, 
and was buried in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey. 

The first period of Chaucer's literary life was one of 
imitation and of training in the poetic art. During this 
time, before his first visit to Italy in 1372, he was essen- 
chaucer's tially mediaeval in temper, a follower of French 
French Period niodels and methods. He wrote many songs 
and ballads, and translated or imitated mediaeval allegori- 
cal romances. Little or nothing of these has been pre- 
served, but such work gave him his early discipline as a 
poet. His most important work of this period was his 
Dethe of Blaunche the Duchesse, written on the death of 
the wife of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, son of 
Edward III. She died in 1369, and the poem probably 
belongs to that year. John of Gaunt was Chaucer's patron, 
and the poem was written to console him in his bereave- 
ment. It is based on the familiar conception of a dream ; 
and although it contains some good poetry, it is distinctly 
imitative in manner. 

Chaucer's second period followed his sojourn in Italy, 
and is characterized by the prevalence in his work of 
Italian influences. The French mediaeval spirit does not 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 6/ 

entirely disappear from his writings, but it is more and 
more subordinated as his genius ripens under the influ- 
ence of a fresher and finer inspiration. His chaucer's 
new models are in their way as romantic as "aiian Period 
the old, and Chaucer still continues to be a romantic 
poet; but the romance is less conventional, less artificial, 
less strained in its allegory. The best poem of this period 
is Troilus and Criseyde, a romance of false love which 
carries us back to the siege of Troy. It is based upon a 
long poem of Boccaccio, and is therefore professedly an 
imitation. Nevertheless, Chaucer in many ways shows his 
growing originality. The characters are conceived in his 
own way, and are really Hfelike presentations of human 
motive and action. The story is well told, although 
Chaucer has not yet attained his later skill in direct and 
rapid narration. The Parlement of Foides is an allegorical 
poem suggested by the betrothal of Richard II and Anne 
of Bohemia. In it the birds are gathered in assembly to 
decide which of three lovers shall be the successful suitor 
for a female eagle. The eagle is, of course, Anne and the 
successful wooer Richard. It is one of the best of Chau- 
cer's shorter poems. In the Hous of Fame, Chaucer has 
a vision in which he is carried by an eagle to the temple of 
Fame. There are carved on ice the famous names of the 
world ; and under the rays of the sun, they are gradually 
melting away. The names of the great ancients are in the 
shade and therefore have been longest preserved. The 
poem is generally supposed to show the influence of 
Dante. Still another poem of this period is the Legend 
of Good Women. It presents a series of stories drawn 
from classical sources and dealing with famous women 
who have sacrificed everything in order to prove their 
faithfulness in love. This poem was written about 1385, 
and probably marks the period at which Chaucer had 
finally attained his full poetic power. 



68 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

During his first and second periods, Chaucer was a 
follower of mediaeval and foreign models. During his 
third period, including about the last fifteen years of his 

Chaucer's ^^^^' ^^ ^^' ^^ ^^^ main, thoroughly English and 
English original. He is still a romantic poet, but there 
is also in his work a large element of realism. 
He exercises to the full his great gift of poetic imagi- 
nation ; but he has developed also a wonderful power of 
observation, and he writes with his eye on the object. 
The crowning work of his life grows out of the life around 
him and out of his insight into EngHsh character. His 
previous literary experience has taught him the art of the 
narrator; and his skill as a story-teller becomes now the 
basis for his wonderful portrayals of men and women. 
Up to this time he has been merely bettering the example 
set by other men. Now he is to do something entirely 
new and original, something which in its kind has never 
been surpassed. The great work of this period, Chaucer's 
masterpiece and one of the great masterpieces of the 
literature, is the Canterbury Tales. For this work, Chau- 
cer had been preparing through most of his literary life. 
He had written separate stories which, in revised form,' 
were to be made a part of this great collection of stories. 
He had been gathering from many sources the materials 
and the knowledge which he was now to put to use. 
In the ripeness of his years and in the fulness of his 
genius, he undertakes a task which he is never to finish, 
but which, in its present form, gives little sense of in- 
completeness. The scheme was too large for perfect ac- 
complishment ; but it was of such a character that perfect 
accomplishment was not essential to full success. 

The plan of the Canterbury Tales is simple, yet wonder- 
fully effective and comprehensive. The poet 

Plan of the ■' . . . . . 

Canterbury tells US that in the springtime of the year, the 
Tales ^^^ ^^ j^.g ^^^ longed to go on pilgrimages, and 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 69 

that from every shire of England they were accustomed 
to journey to the famous shrine of St. Thomas a Becket, 
in the cathedral at Canterbury, 

The holy blisful martir for to seke, 

That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke. 

Seizing on this custom as admirably adapted to his 
purpose, he represents himself as meeting a company of 
such pilgrims gathered by chance on a certain day at the 
Tabard Inn in Southwark, then a village at the south end 
of London Bridge, but long since swallowed up in the 
metropolis. Chaucer is soon in fellowship with the other 
pilgrims, and a general agreement is formed that they 
will all make the journey together. At the suggestion of 
their Host, who offers to accompany them and to act as 
umpire, it is arranged that each of the pilgrims shall tell 
two tales on the way to Canterbury and two more on the 
return journey, the most successful story-teller to be given 
a supper at the cost of the others. In addition to a long 
introduction and to the narrative and conversational pas- 
sages which serve to make proper transition from one story 
to another, the work is made up of the tales supposed to 
have been related by various pilgrims. There are in all 
twenty-four stories, told by twenty-three different persons. 
As there were, including the poet, thirty-one pilgrims, the 
whole scheme would have called for no less than one hun- 
dred and twenty-four tales. Of course, it made little dif- 
ference how many or how few stories were told ; and the 
poet evidently wished to leave himself room enough for 
all that he might want to gather into the great collection. 

The most important part of the Canterbury Tales, the 
master-product of Chaucer's genius, is the Prologue. Here 
he gathers his pilgrims at the Tabard Inn and 
presents the general plan for the story-telling- ^ oog^e 
What is more important, he here describes most of his 



70 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

characters, setting them forth as living individuals with a 
skill that no man has ever surpassed. In comparatively 
few words, each personage is sketched so that we perceive 
clearly both outward appearance and inward disposition. 
There are thirty pilgrims besides the poet; of these, 
twenty-one are individually described, five are described as 
a group, and the rest are simply mentioned. The various 
characters are individual men and women, but they are 
also significant types, broadly representative of English 
life in the fourteenth century. The first group consists of 
a Knight, of a Squire his son, and of a Yeoman his ser- 
vant. Then there are various representatives of the 
church — a Prioress, accompanied by a Nun who was her 
chaplain and by three Priests, a Monk, a Friar, a Sum- 
moner, a Pardoner, and a poor Parson. A number of 
professional men are in the company — a Sergeant-at-Law, 
a Doctor of Physic, a Manciple, a Clerk of Oxford. Still 
another group represents various departments of trade 
and commerce — a Merchant, a Shipman, a Cook, a Wife 
of Bath, a Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a Weaver, a Dyer, 
and a Maker of Tapestry. The list is completed by sev- 
eral representatives of agriculture — a Franklin or country 
landholder, a Plowman, a Miller, and a Reeve or steward. 
Not only does Chaucer describe most of these characters 
with a minute realism, but in many cases he gathers 
up the significance of the individual into some brief 
and suggestive expression. Thus, of the Knight he 
says : 

He was a verray parfit gentil knight. 

Of the Squire, 

He was as fresh as is the month of May. 
Of the Prioress, 

And al was conscience and tendre herte. 



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THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 71 

Of the Friar, 

He knew the tavernes wel in every toun. 
Of the Shipman, 

With many a tempest hadde his herd been shake. 
Of the Doctor of Physic, 

His studie was but Htel on the Bible. 

Of the poor Parson, 

But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, 
He taughte, but first he folwed it himselve. 

Chaucer's full power in graphic description can be appre- 
ciated only from reading the whole Prologue ; but a single 
complete sketch will give a fair specimen of his art. The 
description of the Clerk of Oxford is one of the best of the 
briefer portraits : 

A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also, 

That unto logik hadde longe y-go. 

As lene was his hors as is a rake, 

And he nas nat right fat, I undertake ; 

But loked holwe, and thereto soberly. 

Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy ; 

For he had geten him yet no benefyce, 

Ne was so worldly for to have ofFyce. 

For him was lever have at his beddes heed 

Twenty bokes, clad in blak or reed, 

Of Aristotle and his philosophye. 

Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrye. 

But al be that he was a philosophre, 

Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre ; 

But al that he mighte of his freendes hente, 

On bokes and on lerninge he it spente. 

And bisily gan for the soules preye 

Of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye. 

Of studie took he most cure and most hede. 

Noght o word spak he more than was nede, 

And that was seyd in forme and reverence, 

And short and quik, and ful of hy sentence. 

Souninge in moral vertu was his speche. 

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche. 



72 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

As the pilgrims ride out toward Canterbury in the early 

morning, Harry Bailly, the Host, reminds them of their 

asrreement, and calls upon them to draw cuts to 

The Tales 

see who shall tell the first tale. The lot falls to 
the Knight, who thereupon proceeds to tell the long but 
interesting story of Palamon and Arcite. This is the most 
famous of the Canterbury Tales, and nowhere does Chaucer 
better display his powers of narrative and description. It 
is a romance of love and chivalry. The materials were 
drawn from Boccaccio, but Chaucer handles them with 
remarkable freedom and originality. If the story seems 
somewhat long in the reading, we may do well to remem- 
ber that Chaucer has compressed it into little more than 
one-fifth of the length of Boccaccio's poem. Not only is 
the story well told and each personage well portrayed, but 
Chaucer has adapted the tale thoroughly to the Knight's 
chivalrous and high-bred character. This same adaptation 
is found in the other stories and constitutes a large part of 
their charm. When the Knight is done, the Host calls 
upon the Monk for the next tale ; but the drunken Miller 
insists on breaking in with a coarse tale of his own. This 
angers the Reeve, who takes revenge by telling a similar 
story of which a miller is the hero — or , victim. This 
ribaldry is finally broken off by the Host, at whose request 
the Sergeant-at-Law tells a more dignified story, the ro- 
mantic narrative of Custance. So the story-telling pro- 
ceeds, with entertaining interludes of conversation suitable 
to the characters and to the stories introduced. At the 
courteous solicitation of the Host, the Prioress tells of 
little St. Hugh of Lincoln, the site of whose shrine is still 
shown in Lincoln Cathedral ; this Christian child has been 
slain in a Jewry, but though his throat is cut, 

He " Abna rede7nptoris " gan to singe 
So loude, that al the place gan to ringe. 



THE AGE OF CHAUCER (1360-1400) 73 

The company is sobered by this miracle, till the Host 
turns jokingly to Chaucer : 

" What man artow ? " quod he ; 
" Thou lokest as thou woldest finde an hare, 
For ever upon the ground I see thee stare. 
Approche neer, and loke up merily. 
Now war yow, sirs, and lat this man have place ; 
He in the waast is shape as wel as I ; 
This were a popet in an arm t'enbrace 
For any womman, smal and fair of face. 
He semeth elvish by his contenaunce, 
For unto no wight dooth he daliaunce. 
Sey now somwhat, sin other folk han sayd ; 
Tel us a tale of mirthe, and that anoon." 

Thus adjured, Chaucer begins his tale of Sir Thopas, a 
parody on the romances of chivalry prevalent in his day. 
When the Host impatiently cuts him off, he offers to 
" telle a litel thing in prose." The " litel thing " turns out 
to be a long and tedious "moral tale vertuous " of Meli- 
beus and his wife Prudence. One of the best of the tales 
is the Nun's Priest's story of the cock who has been seized 
by a fox and who escapes by flattering the fox into stop- 
ping to taunt his pursuers. The Wife of Bath, after a long 
prologue, tells a story already mentioned as occurring in 
Gower's Confessio Amantis. The Clerk of Oxford relates 
the pathetic story of Patient Griselda, which he had 
Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk. 

Fraunceys Petrark, the laureat poete, 
Highte this clerk, whos rethoryke sweete 
Enlumined al Itaille of poetrye. 

The Tales conclude with a long and tedious prose sermon 
by the Parson. He began near sundown ; and by the 
time he was through, most of his auditors must have been 
ready for bed. Perhaps Chaucer wished to make amends 
at the close of the day for any frivolity or ribaldry of which 



74 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

he might have allowed his coarser characters to be guilty. 
We may well forgive him for his prosy ending, in view of 
the wonderful variety, fitness, narrative interest, and poetic 
power of his great collection of tales. In prose, he may 
be tedious and cumbersome ; in poetry, and especially in 
narrative poetry, he is a consummate master. 

Much of what is most characteristic in Chaucer's genius 
has already been suggested, and few words will serve by 
Character of "^^3^ ^^ Summary. He was a strikingly original 
Chaucer's fip^ure. In him were combined the competent 

Genius . . 

man of affairs and the genuine poet. His love 
of nature crops out here and there all through his poetry ; 
it was not conventional, but true and sincere. No man 
has shown greater delight in life, and few have had greater 
power of observation and insight. The Prologue alone 
would rank him as one of the greatest of humorists — a 
genial spirit, keenly satirical but with no touch of bitter- 
ness. He loved beauty like a true poet, and he had that 
gift of creative imagination which makes a poet great. 
He was first of all a great narrator, with the power of 
telHng either a romantic or a realistic tale in felicitous 
verse. Few men have ever approached his skill in vivid 
and lifelike description. In the ability to create character, 
he ranks with the great dramatists. His work is objective 
and sound, the work of a great literary artist and of a 
thoroughly sane and healthy nature. He was emphatically 
a man of his age, but he is no less truly a man for all 
time. 




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Reduced Facsimile Page from Malory's Morte d'Arthur, 1529 



CHAPTER VI 

THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY (1400-1500) 

After the Age of Chaucer, the two streams of litera- 
ture — religious and romantic — are hardly to be distin- 
guished from each other ; and the influences Decline of 
arising from the relations between the two races literature 
have largely spent their force. Indeed, if this period 
stood by itself, it might be difficult to say that the influ- 
ences of religion and romance were very clearly mani- 
fested as the guiding impulses of its literature. They 
are certainly not so in any fresh and vigorous way. Never- 
theless, no new influences have as yet arisen to take their 
place ; and as a consequence, literature rapidly sinks into 
that state of exhaustion and decay which marks the fif- 
teenth century as one of the most barren tracts of all our 
literary history. Especially in the early part of the cen- 
tury, and more or less throughout its whole extent, Htera- 
ture is chiefly imitative of what went before ; and so far 
as any vital forces are at work, they are the same as those 
which dominated the Age of Chaucer. In default, there- 
fore, of any new and original impulses, and in view of the 
fact that the older impulses are still operative in weak and 
decadent form, we may still continue to speak of literature 
as growing out of the religious and the romantic spirit. 
Literary revival could come only with the advent of new 
and powerful quickening impulses ; and toward the close 
of the century, we can feel the coming of those newer 
forces which are to exert so powerful an effect upon the 
literature of the sixteenth century. 

75 



^6 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

During a large part of the fifteenth century, imitation 
of Chaucer was a prevailing fashion. This would be an 
Chaucer's evidence of excellent literary taste, if it were not 
English Foi- for the fact that Gower was commonly ranked 
^'^^^^ with him and imitated in only a less degree. 

It is well to note, too, that Chaucer was imitated least 
where he was most original and masterful — that he was 
imitated most where he was chiefly mediaeval, French, alle- 
gorical, a child of his age. Among his English followers, 
two call for special mention. The first of these is Thomas 
Occleve. His principal work is a poem called 
Goitv email of Princes. It deals with the duties 
of rulers, and was dedicated to the Prince of Wales, 
Shakespeare's Prince Hal, afterward Henry V. The best 
thing about the poem is its revelation of Occleve's love 
and admiration for his friend and master, Chaucer. Among 
other praises, he writes : 

O maister dere and fader reverent, 

My maister Chaucer ! floure of eloquence, 

Mirrour of fructuous entendement, 

O universal fadir in science, 

Alias! that thou thyne excellent prudence 

In thy bedde mortel myghtest not bequethe ; 

What eyled Dethe? alias, why wold he sle thee? 

A better poet and much more voluminous writer was 

John Lydgate, "the Monk of Bury." His Storie of 

Thebes is represented as a new Canterbury Tale 

Lydgate -^ 

told by him after joining the pilgrims on their 
journey. His other chief poems are the Troye Book and 
the Falles of Princes, both of which titles sufficiently sug- 
gest the subjects of the poems. He seems to have been 
able to turn his hand to almost any kind of literary work, 
and produced more writings than anybody has yet been 
found willing to publish. One of his best known minor 
pieces is his ballad of London Lickpemiy, which gives vivid 
and reahstic pictures of the London hfe of his time. 



THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY (1400-1500) yj 

The best Chaucerian tradition was carried on, not by 
EngHsh, but by Scotch poets. Theirs is about the only 
vigorous and inspired poetical work of the fif- chaucer's 
teenth century. First and personally most inter- scotch 

Followers 

esting of these is James I of Scotland. Captured 
at the age of eleven, the young prince spent nineteen years 
as a prisoner in England. Poetry became one of the diver- 
sions of his captivity ; and he wrote among other j^j^^g j ^^ 
things The King s Qiiair {'Eook). From the win- Scotland 
dows of his prison — possibly Windsor Castle — the king 
sees a beautiful lady walking in the garden and falls in 
love with her. The poem proceeds, in the customary 
allegorical manner, to tell the story of this love. It is 
supposed to be based upon the real experience of the 
prince's love for Lady Jane Beaufort, whom he married 
at the close of his captivity in 1424. The incident of the 
lady in the garden reminds us of Emelye seen by the 
prisoners Palamon and Arcite, in Chaucer's Kiiighfs Tale. 
Probably later than the middle of the century, Robert 
Henryson produced a number of excellent 
poems. He was a follower of Chaucer, but did ^^°° 
not lack originality. His Testament of Creseide undertakes 
to complete Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, and is in the 
old romantic manner. Robyne and Makyne has been called 
" the earliest EngHsh pastoral." Probably his most vigor- 
ous and interesting work is in his Fables, where he is lively, 
imaginative, and humorous. Not the least of his good 
qualities is his sincere -and direct feeling for nature. 

Two other Scotch poets carry us along toward the end 
of the fifteenth century and over into the sixteenth ; but as 
they, too, represent the Chaucerian tradition, it is perhaps 
best to consider them here. The first of these, and the 
best poet of the Scotch group, was William Dun- 
bar. His poems are too numerous for detailed 
mention, but a few may be cited as typical. The Thistle 



78 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

and the Rose is an allegory commemorating the marriage 
of James IV of Scotland with the Princess Margaret of 
England. The Golden Targe is another allegory, full of 
picturesque description. The Dance of the Seven Deadly 
Sijts is a grotesque ballad, realistic, forcible, and imagina- 
tive. In the Lament for the Makers (Poets), he utters a 
moving complaint on the death of the poets, known and 
unknown, from Chaucer to Maister Walter Kennedy. 
These poems represent a body of work both forcible and 
poetical, ranging from pathos to satire, from coarse realism 
to pure fancy, from allegorical moralizing to fine natural 
description. The last Scotch poet to be mentioned is 
Gawain Douglas, son of the Earl of Angus 
°^^ and Bishop of Dunkeld. Poetry belonged to 

his earlier life, and was later abandoned for politics. His 
Palice of Honour and King Hart (Heart) are moral alle- 
gories, the latter dealing with the heart of man. His best 
work is in his translation of Virgil's u^neid. Like the 
other Scotch poets, he has an eye for the poetical aspects 
of nature. 

During the fifteenth century many romances were 
written, both in verse and in prose. Romantic literature 
was thus carried forward, sometimes with a large infusion of 
the moral or religious element. Through the prose romances 
and various other works of more or less importance, prose 
style was considerably advanced in its development. The 
greatest romance and the greatest prose of the century 
, are to be found together in Sir Thomas Malory's 
Morte Morte d' Arthur, written about 1470. By its ad- 

dition of a moral and religious tone, it becomes 
perhaps the most typical work of the age. As one of the 
earliest works to be printed (in 1485) at Caxton's new 
press, it reminds us that the introduction of printing is 
bringing about new conditions of immense importance to 
literature. Malory's work is a great collection of Arthurian 



THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY (1400-1500) 79 

legends, brought into a fair degree of unity about the 
central conceptions of King Arthur and the Round Table. 
It may in a sense be said to gather up into a single book 
the whole spirit of mediaeval romance. For Malory is not 
a great inventor, but only a moderately skilful compiler. 
He gathers his materials from the best of the old French 
romancers, arranges them in rather confusing fashion, and 
thus reproduces for us the long labor of the Middle Ages 
on the great subject-matter of Arthurian story. What 
Malory had above all things was the power of lively and 
interesting narrative clothed in vivid style. He did not 
invent his story, but he knew how to tell it. His credit, 
however, does not end here. To have caught the spirit 
of Arthurian legend, to have seized and held its features 
of greatest and most enduring interest, to have embalmed 
forever the fast-fading charm of the Middle Ages, is to 
have done much for modern literature and for the modern 
world ; and this, when all proper deductions have been 
made, Malory may be justly said to have accompHshed. 
It is to him, rather than to his French or English predeces- 
sors, that our modern poets of Arthurian legend have gone 
for their inspiration and their materials. Alongside of 
their work, his still stands and keeps its attraction. It is 
one of the great romances of literature, a book that men 
will not willingly let die. 

It is a little difficult to determine the precise point in 
literary history at which the Ballads should be taken up for 
consideration. It seems probable that ballads 
were made and sung as early as the thirteenth >, ^ ^"^^^ 
century, and that they continued to prevail throughout the 
Middle English Period. On the other hand, many ballads 
of undoubtedly mediaeval origin exist to-day in a form of 
English as late as that of the seventeenth or eighteenth 
century. While it is impossible to date most of the indi- 
vidual ballads, and while they probably belong to widely 



So RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

separated periods, it seems probable that most of the older 
and more genuine ballads were produced in or before the 
fifteenth century, and that they took on their present form 
at about that time. Few, if any, are in a language of earlier 
date. It has even been asserted with much plausibility 
that the fifteenth century was the great time of ballad- 
making in England and that many of the ballads on older 
subjects were written at that period. So far as the ballads 
may be associated with fifteenth-century literature, they 
distinctly help to raise its tone and to better its average 
quality. Many of them are finely poetical, and most of 
them are quaint and charming in effect. The ballads are 
the poetry of the common people. Individual authors are 
unknown; and in a very true sense the poems may be re- 
garded as the product of popular feeling and imagination. 
Whoever gave them their first form, they have been resung, 
retouched, reshaped, until they bear the stamp of the 
people rather than of any individual poets. English lit- 
erature is comparatively poor in genuine folk-poetry ; and 
so far as the ballads are really popular, they are for that 
reason all the more precious. 

Ballad subjects cover a wide field. Many of them are 
Character of either historical or romantic or supernatural, 
the Ballads while the ballads of the Scottish border and 
those associated with Robin Hood form special groups 
of great interest. Most true ballads combine narrative 
substance with a lyric form ; they are stories to be sung. 
Some are more purely lyric, and they shade off gradually 
into the strict lyric type. The verse is often crude, the 
tone is often coarse, but not seldom they have a genuine 
music and a high degree of poetic beauty. Some of the 
best and oldest deal with themes common to many lands 
and to many peoples. This is an evidence of the wide and 
unaccountable diffusion of popular legends and beUefs, 
but not at all an evidence of foreign influence or of imita- 



THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY (1400-1500) 81 

tion. Indeed, no part of our poetry is more genuinely 
native and original than the ballads. They smack of the 
soil and bear the unmistakable mark of English and 
Scottish character. It is the life and thought and feeling 
of the English peasant that they reflect, even when 
they are dealing with the most romantic themes or with 
high-born lords and ladies. Their very crudeness tells of 
the uncultured sources from which they sprang ; and their 
poetry is evidence that the English nature is not without 
the artistic instincts which have made other races rich in 
popular song. It is impossible in brief space to recount 
even the best and most typical of English ballads. One of 
the most famous is Chevy Chase, of which Sir Philip Sid- 
ney said that his heart was stirred by it more than with a 
trumpet. Perhaps none is superior in poetic value to the 
Nut-Browne Mayde. It is in the form of a dialogue be- 
tween the maid and her lover. In order to test her love, 
he pretends that he has been outlawed, but she insists on 
following him into banishment. She says : 

And though that I of auncestry 

A baron's daughter be, 
Yet have you proved howe I you loved, 

A squyer of lowe degre. 

He finally reveals to her the truth, and says : 
I wyll you take, and lady make. 

As shortely as I can : 
Thus have you won an erlys son, 
And not a banyshed man. 

Sir Patrick Spens is a fine ballad, typical in substance and 
metre. Sir Patrick has been sent by the king of Scotland 
on a rash winter voyage to bring home " the king's daugh- 
ter of Noroway." On their return the ship is lost. 
And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, 

Wi' their goud kaims in their hair, 
A' waiting for their ain dear loves ! 
For them they'll see na mair- 



82 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

O forty miles off Aberdeen, 
'Tis fifty fathoms deep, 
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, 
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. 

The earliest dramatic literature in England was in the 
form of Mysteries and Miracle Plays. Mysteries were 
Mysteries dramatic representations of Bible incidents and 
and Miracle characters, especially of such as were in any 

^ way connected with the life or personality of 

Christ. They appear to have developed out of the church 
ritual, to have been encouraged by the church as a means 
of utilizing strong human instincts in the service of relig- 
ion, to have been represented at first by ecclesiastics and 
within the church buildings. Later, they were acted by 
the trade guilds of various towns ; and from this associa- 
tion, they were called Mysteries, a name derived from the 
Old French mester, a trade. Mysteries occur mostly in 
long series or cycles of plays, dealing with successive 
steps of the Bible history. Miracle Plays dealt with the 
lives and deeds of various saints, and occur as separate 
plays rather than in cycles. Mysteries and Miracles are 
of essentially the same dramatic type, though it is likely 
that Mysteries represent the earlier stage of development. 
They are better discriminated from each other in French 
literature than in Enghsh. In English literature, indeed, 
the name Miracle is applied to both classes of plays, and 
there seems never to have been a clear distinction between 
them. The distinction, however, is a serviceable one and 
is not without historical justification. Allowing ourselves 
to make use of it, we may say that English literature is 
comparatively rich in Mysteries and that it has few, if any, 
Miracles, strictly so-called, that are written in the native 
tongue. 

The earliest known dramatic work to be associated with 
English literature is the Miracle Play of St. Katherine. 



THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY (1400-1500) ' 83 

It was performed early in the twelfth century and was 
probably written in Latin, though possibly in French. 
English Mysteries, and probably Miracles also, Medieevai 
were played as early as the thirteenth century, Drama 
and were both common and popular in the fourteenth. 
No extant plays are older than the latter part of the four- 
teenth century, and probably most, if not all, of them 
belong to the fifteenth. A French literary historian has 
called the fifteenth century "the golden age of the Myste- 
ries," and the expression is probably as applicable to 
Enghsh literature as to French. It seems best, therefore, 
as in the case of the ballads, to treat at this point a form 
of literature which had been developing among the people 
throughout the Middle Ages. It seems worthy of note 
that Mysteries were in full flower more than a hundred 
years before the first complete Elizabethan dramas and 
that they are a product of mediaeval life rather than of 
the Age of the Renaissance. 

Besides a few separate plays, there are in English four 
great series of Mysteries, known as the York, Towneley, 
Chester, and Coventry cycles. Many other Mystery 
cycles formerly existed, such as those of Lon- ^y^^^^^ 
don, Worcester, Beverley, Dublin, and Newcastle. The 
York cycle is the most extensive, and in many respects 
the most interesting and typical. It contains forty-eight 
plays. The first is on the Creation and the Fall of 
Lucifer ; eleven are based on the Old Testament ; most 
of the others have to do with the life, death, and resurrec- 
tion of Christ ; and the last deals with the Judgment Day. 
Each play was presented by the representatives of some 
particular trade, and there is sometimes a naive fitness in 
the association of certain trades with certain plays. Thus, 
for instance, the shipwrights had the Building of the Ark, 
the fishers and mariners had the play of Noah and the 
Flood, the bakers had the Last Supper, the butchers had 



84 RELIGION AND ROMANCE (1066-1500) 

the Death and Burial of Christ. The plays were acted in 
the open air on movable platforms which could be drawn 
about the city from one station to another, as from the 
cathedral to one of the city gates. At these stations the 
crowds were gathered, and to each station came in proper 
succession the various wheeled platforms or '* pageants." 
Each play was thus acted as many times as there were 
stations. It often took several days to complete the act- 
ing of a long cycle where numerous stations were made 
necessary by the size of the crowds. The *' pageants " 
were constructed in two stories, the upper serving as the 
main stage, and the lower serving as a dressing room or, 
on occasion, to represent hell. The costumes seem often 
to have been of a striking or elaborate character, and 
there is evidence of much care in the selection and train- 
ing of actors. 

The Mysteries, like the ballads, are essentially a prod- 
uct of the popular imagination. Literary finish and artis- 
tic skill they do not possess, but they have what is better 
— force, vividness, sincerity. Drawing their material from 
the Bible, they nevertheless possess much originality of 
conception, and even show something of boldness in the 
introduction of comic elements. Withal, they are for the 
most part reverent and earnest in feeling. Their dramatic 
Dramatic effect must have been powerful upon the simple 
Effect \y^^ vigorous imaginations of their uncultured 

spectators. The famous Passion Play enacted every ten 
years at Oberammergau gives evidence of the possibilities 
that are latent in plays of the Mystery type. The secret 
of their power is largely in the fact that they have a high 
spiritual theme and know how to treat it in a thoroughly 
human fashion. They reflect in Bible scenes and heroes 
the life that was passing under men's very eyes. That 
life was deeply and genuinely religious, even though it was 
also coarse, ignorant, and superstitious. The mediaeval 



THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY (1400-1500) 85 

drama is scarcely less typical than the mediaeval cathe- 
dral of an age of profound faith and of strong romantic 
sentiment. 

The so-called Moralities, on the other hand, reflect the 
mediaeval passion for allegory. Perhaps, too, they grew 
out of the niore intellectual side of the medi- 

Moralities 
aeval temper. The characters are personified 

abstractions, representing the various virtues and vices. 
The plays, at least in the earlier examples, deal with the 
broad problems of man's whole moral nature. Later, 
they become somewhat more limited in scope, as we shall 
have occasion to see in the next period. A typical speci- 
men of the older Moralities is Everyman, in which the 
hero represents general human nature, and in which some 
of the characters are Death, Fellowship, Kindred, Gold, 
Good Deeds, Knowledge, Confession, Beauty, Strength, 
Discretion, Five Wits. When Everyman is summoned by 
Death, all his other former friends forsake him, but Good 
Deeds alone is willing to accompany him on the dreadful 
journey. The Moralities represent a second stage of 
dramatic development, but they are not in all respects an 
improvement upon the Mysteries. Their plots are in- 
vented instead of borrowed, and they have attained a freer 
form, from which it is possible for later drama to grow ; 
but as dramatic figures their moral abstractions are far 
inferior to the living personages of the Bible story. That 
they were probably not so dull and tedious, however, as 
they have sometimes seemed to modern readers, is shown 
by the recent effective production of Everyman upon our 
contemporary stage. 




Representation of a Mystery Play 

Sharp's " Coventry Mysteries " 



Ttiorl^iatt Kniprlit 




Sail 



/¥^ vvt^/ 



BOOK III 

RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION {1300-1660) 
CHAPTER VII 

BEGINNINGS OF RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION IN 
ENGLAND (1500-15 79) 

The close of the fifteenth century and the beginning 
of the sixteenth formed a period of transition. The long 
period of the Middle Ages was rapidly passing away, and 
a new life was rapidly being shaped by new ideals and 
new modes of thought. Literature had declined, and its 
revival could come only with the advent of a new quicken- 
ing impulse. Such impulse had already appeared and was 
growing more and more to the exercise of its full power. 
It was of a twofold nature. On the one hand was that 
great intellectual awakening which we call the 
Renaissance ; and on the other was that great andTeforma- 
spiritual awakening which we call the Refor- ^^°^ 
mation. These two great forces worked together to 
shape the general character of literature for over a 
century and a half. Never before or since has the 
race been so mightily stirred, and never elsewhere 
have we seen so great literary results. What wonder, 
when we consider the nature of the influences at work. 
The Renaissance was in very truth a new intellectual 
birth. Think for a moment of what it involved or im- 
plied. First, we have the revival of classic learning, 
revealing to the modern world the riches of ancient 
thought. Then came the introduction of printing, spread- 

87 



88 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

ing broadcast both the old and the new in Uterature. 
Then the discovery of America, revealing to men an 
unknown world. Then the Copernican system of as- 
tronomy, giving them new heavens as well as a new 
earth. To all this was added the religious fervor of the 
Reformation, quickening human life at its very centre. 
Such an intellectual and moral revolution is almost be- 
yond conception ; and the race that would not respond to 
such influences must be incapable of great literary expres- 
sion. The English race did respond, and in a way that has 
made English poetry the crowning glory of the world's 
intellectual history. 

These new impulses, like the earlier introduction of Chris- 
tianity among the Anglo-Saxons, were foreign in their 
English Re- Origin. They were European rather than Eng- 
sponse ijsi^^ Yet the EngUsh race responded to them 

without any long period of assimilation. How shall we 
account for this, if it be true that a foreign influence must 
first enter into the very life-blood of a people before it can 
vitally affect their literature ? The answer is not difficult. 
The new influences in a certain sense came from without ; 
but they were merely the touch on the spring which let 
loose the restrained forces of the English mind, the sup- 
pressed religious passion of the English heart. They were 
the occasion rather than the adequate cause of the new 
movements. In other words, the true impulses of the new 
literature were not the Renaissance and the Reformation 
as independent forces, but rather the pent-up powers of 
the Enghsh nature which were now brought to a conscious- 
ness of themselves. The Renaissance and the Refor- 
mation did not create these powers; they found them already 
existing. If they had not so found them, the new in- 
fluences would have worked comparatively in vain. This 
is not mere theory. Historical fact justifies our view that 
the intellectual and moral influences that create great 



BEGINNINGS IN ENGLAND (1500-1579) 89 

literature were already straining on the leash, eager to be 
let loose. See the race struggling for great poetic utter- 
ance in Chaucer more than a hundred years before — 
struggling with splendid success for a moment, and then 
sinking back stifled in that heavy intellectual atmosphere. 
See it struggling in Langland and Wyclif and the Lollards 
for a new religious life, only to find the wings of its aspi- 
ration beating vainly against the iron bars of a cage. 
When air and light and freedom came to all western 
Europe, the repressed energies of England sprang for- 
ward with a bound toward their magnificent task. Not in 
a moment, however, were the greatest hterary results 
achieved. Ready and eager as England was, she, like the 
rest of Europe, needed time to accommodate herself to the 
new circumstances, time to try her strength in the new 
ways, time to find herself in the new tasks. At first, we 
must content ourselves with Wyatt and Surrey as expo- 
nents of the Renaissance, with Tyndale as exemplifying the 
English response to the spirit of the Reformation. It is not 
until the last quarter of the sixteenth century that we come 
upon the great works which make the glory of English 
literature. 

Mediaeval dramatic forms did not at once cease with the 
advent of the Renaissance. Mysteries continued to be 
acted throughout the sixteenth century. The continuation 
type, however, did not develop further, but re- ofi>rama 
mained substantially what it had been during the fifteenth 
century and earlier. Moralities, on the other hand, show 
some progress. In the first place, they become more 
limited in the range of their subject-matter. Earlier 
Morahties had dealt with the full scope of 
man's moral nature. Now the tendency is to 
deal with more particular problems, such as the temptations 
of youth or the advantages of sound learning. In the 
latter case especially, the influence of the Renaissance is 



90 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

apparent. Then, the Moralities were tending to become 
less allegorical and more realistic, to make their characters 
less abstract and more individual. In particular, a humor- 
ous element creeps in which is often taken from actual life. 
A change of somewhat similar nature was the tendency 
toward greater concreteness. Characters became more 
solid and vital, incidents had more interest for their own 
sake and less for the sake of didactic effect. This again 
is shown chiefly on the humorous side. The Devil and 
the Vice especially became something like real flesh-and- 
blood personages. All this is in the direction of true 
drama, though it is still a long way from the goal. 

Yet another kind of dramatic work is to be found in the 
Interludes. The name designates a short dramatic piece 
to be acted in the intervals of longer entertain- 
ments. The type is not well defined, and, 
indeed, is hardly to be separated from other classes. 
Many Interludes are practically Moralities. Others have 
a considerable mixture of classical elements, and still 
others are brief farces. There is, perhaps, a gain in free- 
dom and realism, but not much advance in other respects. 
John Heywood, who produced several Interludes as early 
as 1532, gave this sort of play its most distinct literary 
form. One of his works is entitled The Four P's^ a 7herry 
Interlude of a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Potecary, and a 
Pedlar. Its farcical character is suggested by the title. 
In a competition as to which can tell the greatest He, the 
prize is won by the Palmer, who declares that he never 
saw a woman out of patience. 

The farcical Interlude passes on into the true Comedy. 
The first comedy in Enghsh literature was acted between 
FirstEngiish 1534 and 1541, and was written by Nicholas 
Comedy Udall, master of Eton College. It is called 
Ralph Roister Bolster ; and the fact that it was based on 
a comedy of Plautus shows it to be a product of the 



BEGINNINGS IN ENGLAND (1500-1579) 91 

Renaissance spirit. It is crude and farcical ; but the in- 
cidents are lively, the plot is fairly well constructed, and 
the characters are realistic. This play represents the 
farthest reach of dramatic development during the first 
half of the sixteenth century. Before pursuing our way 
further, we will retrace our steps to consider the growth of 
other forms of literature during this same period. 

The revival of classsic learning was one of the most 
important features of the Renaissance. Under its influ- 
ence, the Enghsh universities ceased to be mere schools of 
analytics and dialectics, and became European centres of 
light and culture. They now made the so-called ^he Human- 
*' humanities " the basis of liberal education. ^^^^ 
Their reputation abroad is shown by the fact that Erasmus 
of Rotterdam, perhaps the greatest scholar of his day, was 
attracted to Oxford by the opportunities for the study of 
Greek. His own learning and enthusiasm did much to 
encourage these studies, and his . influence on education 
and indirectly on literature serves to associate him with the 
English humanists. We are here, of course, concerned 
with literature rather than with scholarship, and must 
confine ourselves to such of the humanists as illustrate the 
influence of the new learning on literary work. 

Most conspicuous of these was Sir Thomas More. 
Renowned alike as a scholar, a lawyer, a statesman, and a 
man of wisdom and integrity, he was also a man gjj. Thomas 
of letters. His chief work, the Utopia, was ^^^^ 
written in Latin, and has therefore only an indirect 
association with English literature. Nevertheless, as the 
production of an English thinker and as an illustration 
of the English Renaissance spirit, it has great signifi- 
cance. It is an imaginative description of such an ideal 
commonwealth as only a liberal humanist could then 
have conceived. It is the work of a practical statesman 
but also of a poetic idealist. It was not only a protest 



92 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

against existing evils but a rational plan for an improved 
social order. In its views on education, it represented 
the new learning as contrasted with mediaeval scholas- 
ticism ; in its advocacy of freedom of individual religious 
belief, it was in advance both of Catholic and Protestant 
theologians. The word "Utopian" has since come to 
describe that which is fanciful or theoretical, but many 
of More's Utopian ideas are now in practical operation. 
In his History of Edzvard V and Richard III, we have 
our first good historical work, both in matter and in 
style. 

Roger Ascham was a notable scholar and at one time 
the tutor of the Princess Elizabeth, afterward queen. 
Roger His first work was a treatise on archery called 

Ascham Toxophiliis, written in 1545. His Schoolmaster 

was written much later in life and was not published until 
after his death in 1568. It sets forth his decidedly 
humanistic ideas of education. Ascham believed in 
healthful sport, in physical culture, in classical training, 
in sympathy between teacher and pupil, in character as 
the aim of education. 

The Renaissance and the Reformation were, in the 
main, working toward the same great end of intellectual 
The Reform- 3,nd spiritual freedom. At times, however, their 
®^^ aims and their spirit seemed to be in con- 

flict; and humanists and reformers often regarded 
each other as belonging to hostile camps. The 
humanists appealed for the most part to the cultured 
classes. The reformers recognized the necessity of reach- 
ing the minds and hearts of the common people. This 
necessity led to a new translation of the Bible, the first 
since the days of Wyclif. It was in part the work of 
Tyndaieand William Tyndalc and in part the work of Miles 
Coverdaie Coverdale. Tyndale is generally regarded as 
the finer stylist of the two ; but doubtless to both men the 



BEGINNINGS IN ENGLAND (1500-1579) 93 

translation owed its qualities of directness, simplicity, vigor, 
and picturesqueness. This translation, revised more than 
once during the sixteenth century, became the basis of 
the great "authorized version" of 161 1, which has lasted 
down to our own day, and which has had more influence on 
English prose style than any other single book. Another 
important prose-writer was Hugh Latimer, 
Bishop of Worcester, a zealous reformer and 
most powerful preacher. His Sermons are written in an 
English that is homely, idiomatic, humorous, and at times 
even coarse, but frequently vivid and impressive. During 
the reign of Edward VI (i 547-1 553), was prepared the 
English Book of Common Prayer, supposed to English 
have been edited by Thomas Cranmer, Arch- Prayer-book 
bishop of Canterbury. In spite of some limitations, it shows 
a remarkable combination of melody and stateliness in style, 
and has exerted a strong and continuous influence from 
that day to this. One of its peculiarities is the use of 
both the Anglo-Saxon and Latin synonyms for the same 
idea, as in " acknowledge and confess." 

The mediaeval type of poetry persisted well into the 
sixteenth century, but without producing any important 
results. We have already noted the work of the Transition 
Scotch poets, Dunbar and Douglas ; and to Poetry 
these may be added another Scotchman, Sir David 
Lyndesay, who wrote until as late as 1553 and whose 
satires associate him with the new reform movement. 
Among English poets the continuation of the older poetry 
is illustrated by the names of Stephen Hawes and John 
Skelton. Skelton's work gradually changed, and he was 
one of the earliest EngHsh poets to manifest the influence 
of the newer ideas. By virtue of a Morality with farcical 
elements, entitled Magnyfycence, his is one of the earliest 
definite names to be connected with the development of 
the drama. He displays at times an interesting lyric gift. 



94 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

but his best-known work is satirical. His bitter and 
rather coarse satire is mostly directed against the religious 
abuses of the age. This fact associates him in a sense 
with the reformers ; but his vagabond temper had little in 
common with their lofty spirit. Through his undoubted 
learning, he is linked with the humanists. Most of his 
best-known poems are written in a doggerel metre, called 
from him Skeltonic. We may not unfairly regard him as 
a man of some genius who came so early in the course of 
a great movement that he was unable to find his way. 

The first of the true Renaissance poets were Sir Thomas 
Wyatt and Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. In the 
The New humanists, we have seen the Renaissance on the 
Poetry gj^^g Qf learning. In Wyatt and Surrey, we see 

it on the side of poetry. The influences that inspired these 
men came chiefly from Italy ; but they were both good, 
sound English natures, and knew how to give something of 
a native flavor to their verse. They were both polished 
gentlemen, men of culture, and men of the world. Most 
of their work consists of rather artificial love poetry, written 
after Italian models ; but some of their later poems have 
a more serious and more genuine tone. That they intro- 
wyatt and duced and practised the sonnet is alone suffi- 
Surrey cicnt to givc them a name in the literature ; but 

Surrey has the additional credit of having been the first of 
English poets to use blank verse. Both helped to give to 
English poetry more of classical finish and facility of 
expression, qualities which were needed to make it a fitting 
instrument for the great poets of the later sixteenth century. 
They were really the first of modern EngHsh lyric poets, 
and their lyric gift was no mean one. Wyatt was the 
older of the two, and probably the master-spirit. His 
poetry has the greater seriousness and dignity, and he adds 
to his other abilities that of the satirist. Surrey is more 
varied, more musical, and more finished than his friend 



BEGINNINGS IN ENGLAND (1500-1579) 95 

and master, though he has less of force and weight. It is 
worthy of note that his use of blank verse is in translations 
from Virgil's j^neid. Wyatt and Surrey were the first of 
the ''Courtly Makers," the noble beginners of our really 
modern English poetry. 

Wyatt died in 1 542 and Surrey in 1 547 ; but their works 
were not printed until ten years after the latter date. They 
were first published in a work called Totters Totters Mis- 
Miscellany, issued in 1557. The book also con- ceiiany 
tained the work of various minor poets. Nothing in it 
rises to the level of really great poetry ; but the little 
volume is forever famous as the first poetical publica- 
tion of the greatest period of our literature — the Age of 
Elizabeth. 

The first twenty years of the reign of Queen Elizabeth 
continue the work which had begun in the early part of 
the century. There is advance in various lines. 

' Early 

but no literary work of the first order. It will Elizabethan 
serve our purpose to note briefly the work that 
was accomphshed in the three important departments of 
literature — poetry, drama, and prose. 

The example of Wyatt and Surrey was followed by 
many poets, none of whom calls for personal mention. 
The popularity of poetry is shown by the publi- ^^^.^ 
cation of many collections of songs and lyrics, Elizabethan 
some of which were issued again and again. 
The titles are often quaint and fanciful, as, for instance, 
"C^Q Paradise of Dainty Devices and the Gorgeous Gallery 
of Gallant Inventions. There were also various transla- 
tions from the classics and from other modern languages. 

Only one poet of the period produced really notable 
work and gave indication of the great poetry that was 
soon to follow. This was Thomas Sackville, Thomas 
Lord Buckhurst, and afterward Earl of Dorset, sackviiie 
A curious and extensive narrative poem, called The Mirror 



96 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

for Magistrates, had already been written in part by 
various poets and was afterward much enlarged by 
others. Its purpose was to show " with how grievous 
plagues vices are punished in Great Princes and Magis- 
trates, and how frail and unstable worldly prosperity is 
found, where fortune seemeth most highly to favour." 
Sackville contributed to this work an Indiictioji, or in- 
troduction, and the Complaint of the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, His contribution is the only part of the whole that 
has poetic value. In the Induction, he imagines himself 
as guided by Sorrow to the realms of the dead. In the 
Complaint, he meets the Duke of Buckingham in the 
underworld, and listens to his lamentation over his tragic 
fate. Sackville's work is somewhat stiff and crude ; but 
it has a largeness, a statehness, a grandeur, a musical 
cadence that give promise of better things. It is a matter 
of regret that Sackville did not continue his work in this 
direction ; but the attractions of public life soon drew him 
away from poetry. 

During the early part of the sixteenth century, drama 
had already attained, in the case of UdalFs Ralph Roister 
Bolster, to the stage of real comedy. Mysteries, Mo- 
ralities, and Interludes continued to be acted throughout 
the century, and many new Moralities and Interludes 
were written ; but, nevertheless, drama continued to de- 
velop along the new lines. The influences working 
„ , toward the newer drama were in part mediaeval 

Early ^ ^ ^ 

Elizabethan and English — influences growing out of the 
Mystery and the Morality. They were in part 
also classical, arising from the study of the ancient drama. 
Many classical dramas were translated and imitated, and 
there was a decided, though fortunately vain, attempt to 
conform the English drama to classic models. One of 
the earliest examples of this is found in the first Eng- 
lish tragedy, Gorboduc, or Ferrex and Porrex, written by 



BEGINNINGS IN ENGLAND (1500-1579) 97 

Thomas Sackville in collaboration with Thomas Norton. 
It is modeled after Seneca, and represents a class of 
English plays known collectively as Senecan dramas. 
The tragedy tells how Gorboduc, king of Britain, divided 
his realm between his sons, Ferrex and Porrex, and of 
the terrible consequences that followed. It is written in 
blank verse, and was first acted in 156 1. In 1566 was 
acted for the first time the second English comedy. Gam- 
mer Gurtons Needle. This is a farcical play, almost purely 
native in tone, reputed to have been written by John 
Still, afterward Bishop of Wells. Gammer Gurton has 
various amusing experiences in hunting for her lost needle ; 
she finds it at last in the seat of her man Hodge's 
breeches, which she had been mending. The incidents 
and the language are coarse, and the characters are taken 
from English low life. Tragedy and comedy are thus 
seen to be fairly under way. Still another kind of drama 
to be originated at about this time is the historical or 
chronicle play. Most of the great Elizabethan dramas 
belong to these three classes. During the first twenty 
years of the reign of Elizabeth, therefore, the foundations 
of the later drama were laid. No work of a very high order 
was accomplished ; but experiments were made in all 
directions, and the way was made plain for the great 
dramatists of the next generation. 

The development of prose went on, but there were no 
real masters of style or invention. The work of Roger 
Ascham continued into this period, and his 
Schoolmaster, already mentioned, was published Elizabethan 
in 1570, two years after his death. His is the ^'°^® 
only name of prominence. The Reformation spirit is rep- 
resented by John Knox and by Fox's popular Book of 
Martyrs. Chroniclers, like Holinshed and Stow, provided 
historical material for the later dramatists. Stories of the 
early voyagers fired the imaginations of high and low, and 



98 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 



carried on the influences which had arisen from the discov- 
ery of new lands beyond the seas. Translations were made 
from foreign languages, both ancient and modern, and thus 
the new learning became more and more widely spread. 
Such translations, moreover, were doing their full part to 
inspire the coming poets and dramatists and to furnish 
them with their wealth of materials. England was intellec- 
tually alive ; and although no great works were being pro- 
duced either in prose or in verse, we are now able to see 
that English literature was rapidly moving on toward the 
noblest results which it has ever achieved. It was the 
darkness just before a great dawn. 




The Globe Theater 
After a drawing in the British Museum 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 

During the lifetime of Shakespeare, the English Re- 
naissance reached its flood-tide. Its spirit was really 
the creative literary force of the age ; and its richness, 
its vigor, its delight, its beauty, its enthusiasm, sought 
and in large measure found adequate expression. The 
age was filled with superabundant life, with an influence of 
ardent desire for knowledge, with a passion for Renaissance 
action and adventure, with a boundless ambition to ac- 
comphsh great things, with a childhke wonder at the 
marvels of the world, with a splendid faith in man's power 
to conquer the realm of nature and the realm of thought, 
with an intense appreciation of the charm of all that was 
beautiful and attractive. The race had been born again ; 
it felt itself young, and its dominant notes were those of 
passion and imagination. It was the time of all times for 
the poet with his pictures of the ideal world and for the 
dramatist with his presentation upon the mimic stage of 
the moving pageant of human life. All this and more 
had come into Enghsh literature with the culmination 
of the Renaissance. 

The spirit of the Reformation was for a time subordi- 
nated as a literary force ; but it had by no means vanished. 
If men had for a day almost forgotten spiritual Reformation 
concerns in seeking after the glory of this world, ^^^"^ 
the deep religious instinct of the Enghsh nature was still in 
their hearts, and doubtless such words as those of Philip 
Sidney came often to their lips : 

99 



100 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

My mind, aspire to higher things ; 
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust. 

In the greatest literature of the time, reUgion was pres- 
ent as a steadying and restraining if not as an impeUing 
force. In the period succeeding this, we shall see it rising 
to the full measure of its power as a dominant guiding im- 
pulse. The literature of Shakespeare's age was full, rich, 
varied, complicated, as well as powerful. It is not easy to 
present even its essential features in brief space. We 
shall endeavor, as heretofore, to hold as closely as possible 
to the chronological order, while at the same time keeping 
fairly distinct from each other the three main streams of 
literary development — prose, poetry, and the drama. 

The reign of Elizabeth continued until 1603, and we 
may conveniently group together the leading prose-writers 
Later Eliza- ^ho belong to the latter half of her reign, 
bethan Prose pij-gt in time of these is John Lyly, one of the 
minor dramatists and poets of the age, who in 1579 
and 1580 published the two parts of a unique romance 
called EiLpJmes. The first part was entitled Eiiplmes, 
Lyiy's ^^^^ Anatomy of Wit; and the second part, 

Euphues Euphues and his England. Euphues is a 
young Athenian who visits England and is made the 
mouthpiece for the expression of Lyiy's views upon various 
phases of the life, thought, and manners of the day. The 
work displays the Renaissance interest in education and 
philosophy, but it harmonizes also with the religious 
feeling of the time in declaring that *' vain is all learning 
without the taste of divine knowledge." It had a decided 
influence as a guide to polite manners, and perhaps a still 
greater influence in setting the fashion of an affected and 
elaborate style of speech. Courtiers talked and authors 
wrote in the high-flown manner which we still describe as 
" Euphuism." Lyly was concerned more with expression than 
with thought, but his work at least shows the exceeding care 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) lOI 

that was being devoted to the matter of prose style. He 
misled prose for a time in the direction of poetry, but his 
experiment was, after all, one that was worth making. 
His work is remembered to-day more for its historical 
influence than for any gift of invention or originality of 
thought. A single sentence will help to illustrate his 
characteristic balance of sentence, alliteration, and excessive 
use of figures and parallels : 

For as the hop, the pole being never so high, groweth to the end, or 
as the dry beech kindled at the root never leaveth until it come to the 
top : or as one drop of poison disperseth itself into every vein, so affec- 
tion having caught hold of my heart, and the sparkles of love kindled 
my liver, will suddenly, though secretly, flame up into my head, and 
spread itself into every sinew. 

In the case of Sir Philip Sidney, it is the man that we 
honor and admire more than anything or all that he has 
written. There is a magic charm about his name which 
appeals powerfully to the imagination. High sirPhiiip 
birth, lofty character, knightly honor, chivalrous Sidney 
loyalty, romantic spirit, faithful friendship, disappointed 
love, classic learning, religious zeal, faultless courage, early 
death — all unite to create a personality that embodies for 
us all that was greatest and best in a great age. Beside 
this his literary achievement grows dim. Yet it was 
by no means insignificant. We shall have occasion 
later to consider his poetry. In prose his notable works 
are two. First is a pastoral romance, entitled Arcadia. 
Somewhat lengthy, tedious, and affected in style it is ; 
and yet it has much of the charm that fascinates us 
in the man. This charm is half poetical, and, indeed, 
some of Sidney's characteristic verse appears here and 
there throughout the Arcadia, His Defense of Poesy is 
much better written, and has the distinction of being our 
first important work in the field of hterary criticism. Its 
critical theories are, in the main, sound, though he defended 



102 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

the classical unities in drama and held that verse was not 
an essential feature of poetry. The concluding sentence 
of the Defense will give an idea of his manner : 

But if — fie of such a but! — you be born so near the dull-making 
cataract of Nilus, that you cannot hear the planet-like music of poetry ; 
if you have so earth-creeping a mind that it cannot lift itself up to look 
to the sky of poetry, or rather, by a certain rustical disdain, will become 
such a mome as to be a Momus of poetry ; then, though I will not wish 
you the ass's ears of Midas, nor to be driven by a poet's verses, as 
Bubonax was, to hang himself ; nor to be rimed to death, as is said to 
be done in Ireland ; yet thus much curse I must send you in the behalf 
of all poets : — that while you live you live in love, and never get favor 
for lacking skill of a sonnet ; and when you die, your memory die from 
the earth for want of an epitaph. 

The theological literature of the time is nowhere better 
represented than in the writings of Richard Hooker. His 
Richard great work is The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. 

Hooker This is not an especially favorable subject for 

literature ; but Hooker succeeded in producing a work 
which not only remains valuable for the theologian but 
also calls for the recognition of the literary historian. It 
is one of the landmarks in the development of English 
prose. The style is dignified, stately, restrained, and not 
seldom really musical. In spite of its heaviness, its long 
periodic sentences, and its Latinized character, it is also 
reasonably clear and forcible. A brief, familiar passage 
may be profitably compared with the quotations from Lyly 
and Sidney : 

Of law, there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is the 
bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world. All things in 
heaven and earth do her homage ; the very least as feeling her care, 
and the greatest as not exempted from her power. Both angels and 
men, and creatures of what condition soever, though each in different 
sort and manner, yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the 
mother of their peace and joy. 

Hooker's style is probably the best model that his im- 
mediate time affords ; but contemporary writers show his 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 103 

influence much less than that of Lyly and Sidney. This 
is not altogether unfortunate ; for English prose was to be 
used for many and varied purposes, and it was well that 
it should make its experiments in different directions. 
While the three names already mentioned will suffice to 
represent the prose movement, we should not fail to ob- 
serve that a great mass of prose was written on a great 
variety of subjects. There were Euphuists, con- Minor Prose 
cerned chiefly with formal excellence ; there were writings 
theological writers, CathoHc, AngUcan, and Puritan ; there 
were literary critics, representing widely divergent theories; 
there were writers of travels and voyages, dealing some- 
times with their own experiences; there were historians, 
treating of events English and foreign, ancient and mod- 
ern ; there were pamphleteers, discussing religion, politics, 
and other matters ; there were romances, realistic tales, 
personal reminiscences, sketches of life and manners, ser- 
mons, and translations. All this does not exhaust the 
field; for there was intense ferment and activity, though 
little of literary art. Sometimes a Avriter belonged to sev- 
eral of these classes, and might be poet and dramatist as 
well. The age was striving, aspiring, experimenting ; but 
on the side of prose, it can not be said to have found its 
way to great literary achievement. 

The first great English poet after Chaucer — ranking 
with Chaucer among the few greatest poets of English 

literature — was Edmund Spenser. In him, be- „ 

^ ' Spenser's Life 

yond all question, Elizabethan poetry had "found 
its way." The facts of his life that immediately concern 
us in the consideration of his poetry may be briefly stated. 
Like Chaucer, he was born in Londgn ; and it seems prob- 
able that he received there his early education, at the 
Merchant Taylors' School. We know that he was a 
member of Pembroke Hall at Cambridge and that he 
received both his degrees in arts from that University. 



104 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (i 500-1660) 

A sojourn in the North of England, following his depar- 
ture from the University, is associated with a disappoint- 
ment in love for a young lady whom he poetically names 
Rosalind. On his return to London, he enjoyed the pat- 
ronage of that powerful favorite of the queen, Lord 
Leicester, and became a member of the brilliant circle 
in which Sir Phihp Sidney was the central figure. About 
1580 he was appointed secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, 
Deputy of Ireland, and passed most of the remainder of 
his life in that country. There Sir Walter Raleigh be- 
came his friend and patron. Spenser married at the age 
of forty-two. In 1598 his home was burned by the Irish 
rebels, and he fled with his family to England. He died 
in London during the following year, and was buried be- 
side Chaucer in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey. 
The inscription on his monument declares that he was 
"the prince of poets in his tyme " ; and the judgment of 
posterity has not reversed the record. Perhaps the most 
interesting and important feature of his life, apart from 
his poetic work, is to be found in his association with some 
of the most noble and brilliant men of his generation and 
in his participation with them in the eager and strenuous 
life of the age. 

Spenser was the first great Elizabethan poet. In him 
the purely poetical influences of the Renaissance culmi- 
Spenserin nate, and from him flow streams of poetic in- 
hisAge fluence that have helped to make fruitful the 

literature of three centuries. He embodied the romantic 
spirit of his age ; but he embodied its moral spirit as well. 
He gives us the last great picture of chivalry ; he reflects 
what was loftiest and most brilliant in his own passing 
age ; he expresses all the purity and elevation of the 
Reformation temper without its harshness. His influence 
is thoroughly poetic and artistic. To call him the " poets* 
poet" is to imply that he is best appreciated and most 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 105 

highly esteemed by those who themselves have most of 
the poetical nature ; and surely of no English poet can 
this be more truly said. Of all the men of his time, he 
belongs most exclusively to poetry, and has little impor- 
tance aside from that. Judged purely as a poet, without 
regard to any other qualities or characteristics, he is prob- 
ably unsurpassed in English literature. 

Spenser, we have implied, is above all other things a 
poetic artist. As such, he is richly endowed with the poet's 
supreme gift, a wonderful love for the beautiful. To this 
he adds the power of giving a living embodimerit to his 
poetic conceptions. Everything he touches, even spenser's 
the dryest ethical truth, seems to change into Genius 
beauty as if by magic. His work reveals him as eminently 
a poet of the ideal rather than of the real. He moves in 
an ideal world. He is *' of imagination all compact." For 
him the practical world of men and things seems to sink 
out of sight. He deals in his poetry with the real men and 
women of his time; but even these, in his world of dreams, 
seem to lose their reality and to become shadows like the 
rest. This is not to imply that the characters of his poetry 
are mere lay figures or dry abstractions. Such an impli- 
cation woyild be very far from the truth. The world of his 
poetry is an ideal world ; but it is not, therefore, a " world 
not realized." Spenser has a magic power to make his 
dream creations almost as distinct as reality. His person- 
ages live with a life of their own and impress themselves 
upon the imagination. Nevertheless, they are not real in 
the ordinary sense of the term ; they are the unsubstantial 
though vividly beautiful creatures of a most illusive vision. 
Spenser is a lover of nature ; but nature, too, is made sub- 
ject to his idealizing process. He does not portray her, as 
does Chaucer, frankly and directly ; his dream landscapes 
have no earthly existence. In fact, he is interested in ideas 
and images rather than in nature or in men. His work, 



I06 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

therefore, displays very little dramatic power in the creation 

of lifelike men and women — the power which Chaucer pos- 
sessed in such an eminent degree. " Chaucer," it has been 
said, "painted persons, Spenser qualities." Yet he is ob- 
jective in his pictures, and can portray scenes and figures 
that live in the imagination entirely distinct from the per- 
sonality of the poet himself. It is as though he had the 
power to transport us also into his ideal realm and make 
us move as shadows in a world of shadows. Spenser is 
a great epic poet. Through his wonderful powers of nar- 
ration and description, he is able to attract, to charm, to 
fascinate. He has also a fine lyric gift. There are few, if 
any, sweeter singers in the literature. He has intensity, 
variety, fluency, music, fervor, high poetical power. His 
poetry of nature is largely tentative. We find it now some- 
what conventional and artificial. His real home is not 
amid the scenery of the actual world but amid the ideal 
scenes of his marvelous fancy. His style is unique. It 
is intentionally archaic, and does not quite represent the 
English either of his own or of any other time. In the 
mastery of verse he is unsurpassed. No sweeter music 
than his was ever drawn from English speech. His power 
as a metrist is admirably displayed in his pure lyrics and 
in the so-called Spenserian stanza. The latter is one of the 
most perfect instruments of poetic expression ever devised. 
It is a stanza of nine lines, eight iambic pentameters and a 
final iambic hexameter, with rhyme order ababbcbcc. 
It is the stanza used in Spenser's Faerie Qiieeiie^ and will 
be illustrated in our discussion of that poem. Spenser's 
achievement in varying its music and in linking its varied 
sweetness through one of the longest poems in the lan- 
guage is little short of marvelous. In fine, if there are any 
words which sum up the effect of Spenser's poetry, they 
are these two — picture and music. 

Spenser's first important work was the Shepherd' s Cal- 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 107 

e7idar, published in 1579, j^-^st after his return from the 
North of England and just before his departure for Ireland. 
It consists of a series of artificial pastorals, spenser's 
dealing with the months of the year. Some- Minor Poems 
what imitative in style and thought, it is a beautiful poem 
but not a great masterpiece. It gave, however, decided 
evidence of poetic genius, and served to establish his repu- 
tation. A volume entitled Complaints contained poems 
on such subjects as the Ruins of Time^ Tears of the MnseSy 
VirgiVs Gnat^ Mother Hubbard's Tale^ Ruins of Rome, Miii- 
potmos, and three Visions. A pastoral poem entitled Colin 
Cloiifs Come Home Agai^i celebrated his visit to London 
in 1 591. In this same year were published Astrophel, a 
pastoral elegy on the death of Sir Philip Sidney; the 
Amoretti, a series of beautiful love sonnets ; and Epithala- 
mion, his own wedding-hymn. The latter has a high and 
pure note of personal passion ; and as poetry, it is incom- 
parable in its kind, except with his own Prothalamion, 
published in the following year in honor of the double 
marriage of Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine Somerset, 
daughters of the Earl of Worcester. Delightful as poetry 
and typical of Spenser's character and genius are his Four 
Hymns — to Love, to Beauty, to Heavenly Love, and to 
Heavenly Beauty. These, together with the last books of 
his Faerie Queene, bring his poetical work to a close in 1 596, 
three years before his death. 

It has been said that " the Calendar and the Sonnets, the 
Epithalamium and the Hymns, are but the chapels and 
chantries of the cathedral of the Faerie Queejte.''^ This 
beautifully expresses the idea that the Faerie Queejte is the 
greatest and most typical product of Spenser's The Faerie 
genius, the work in which are summed up and Q^eene 
gathered together all the qualities and characteristics of 
his poetry. If we confine our thought to purely poetical 

1 Saintsbury's Shori History of English Literature, p. 268. 



I08 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

merits, it would be difficult to name a greater single poem 
in the English language. In its own class, as an allegory, it 
is undoubtedly supreme. Its allegorical significance is two- 
fold — ethical and historical. On the ethical side, we see 
in its characters representatives of the moral virtues and of 
the vices that oppose them ; on the historical side, these 
same characters become representative of the actual men 
and women of Spenser's time. 

The plan of the work was an immense and an elaborate 

one. There were to be twenty-four books — twelve devoted 

to the twelve private virtues and twelve devoted 

Its Plan ^ 

to the twelve public virtues. Each virtue was to 
be represented by a knight called upon to oppose himself to 
certain evils. These knights were to accomplish their several 
adventures, and be finally successful through the help of 
Prince Arthur, with whose marriage to Gloriana, the Faerie 
Queene, the poem was to culminate. Only six books, about 
one-fourth of this vast scheme, were actually completed. 
Each book is practically a separate poem. As it stands, then, 
the Faerie Qiieene consists of six complete books and the 
fragment of a seventh. The first book deals with the 
Legend of the Red Cross Knight, or of Holiness ; the sec- 
ond, with the Legend of Sir Guyon, or of Temperance ; 
the third, with the Legend of Britomartis, or of Chastity ; 
the fourth, with the Legend of Cambel and Triamond, or 
of Friendship ; the fifth, with the Legend of Artegall, 
or of Justice ; the sixth, with the Legend of Sir Calidore, 
or of Courtesie. The fragment, consisting of two cantos 
and two stanzas, deals with the subject of Mutability, 
and was probably intended as part of a book on Constancy. 
Each of the complete books consists of twelve cantos, 
composed in Spenserian stanzas. In addition to the virtues 
represented by the several knights, Prince Arthur repre- 
sents the comprehensive virtue of Magnanimity. 

The poem, even in its uncompleted condition, is one of 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 109 

the longest in the language. The interest of it is threefold. 
It is, first, a great moral allegory, setting up lofty ideals of 
virtue. It is, secondly, a great historical allegory, 

r, . . . . , 1 T Its Interest 

reflecting as m a magic mirror the men and the 
life of the age. Queen Elizabeth is there, in the person of 
Gloriana, or Glory, the Faerie Queene ; Mary Queen of 
Scots is there, in the person of the false Duessa, who rep- 
resents also the Catholic Church ; Lord Leicester is there, 
in the person of Prince Arthur ; there, also, in various 
characters, are Sir Philip Sidney, Lord Grey of Wilton, 
Sir Walter Raleigh, and many others. Great movements 
of the time are also represented — the political conflict 
with Spain, the religious conflict with Rome, the struggle 
of England for self-mastery and for independence of 
foreign domination. History is not obtruded upon us as 
we follow the adventures of knights and ladies ; but the 
reader familiar with historical persons and events will find 
himself reminded of them on many a page. The 
third interest of the work is that of a great master- 
piece of poetic art, unrolling before us a splendid pano- 
rama of imaginative pictures to the music of rhythmic 
speech. 

The poem is typical of Spenser in its largeness and 
freedom, in its ideality and beauty, in its pictorial and 
musical power, in its ethical and religious character. 
His various excellencies are displayed with more or less 
of fulness in his minor poems ; but we have the complete 
and adequate revelation of his genius only in the Faerie 
Queene. In earlier poems of the age, the spirit its Typical 
of the Renaissance and the Reformation is re- character 
fleeted only in a fragmentary and inadequate way. But 
the great intellectual and moral ferment is going on, and 
at length we come to Spenser — "sage and serious Spen- 
ser" — in whom the most exquisite gift of pure poetry is 
united with a moral elevation as severe as it is beautiful. 



no RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

There could hardly be any poem more finely typical than 
the Faerie Queeite of the blended might of the two great 
literary forces of the age. One may dip almost at random 
into the great poem and find fit evidence of Spenser's gen- 
ius. The following brief passage will illustrate the charac- 
ter of the Spenserian stanza and its musical capabilities, 
the poetic quality of Spenser's conceptions, and the spir- 
itual elevation of his sentiments. It is from the first book, 
and the Red Cross Knight has just been led by the sage 
Contemplation " to the highest mount " : 

From thence, far off he unto him did shew 
A litle path, that was both steepe and long, 
Which to a goodly citie led his vew ; 
Whose wals and towres were builded high and strong 
Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong 
Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell ; 
Too high a ditty for my simple song : 
The Citie of the Great King hight^ it well, 
Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell. 

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see 
The blessed angels to and fro descend 
From highest heaven in gladsome companee, 
And with great joy into that citie wend, 
As commonly as frend does with his frend. 
Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere, 
What stately building durst so high extend 
Her lofty towres unto the starry sphere, 
And what unknowen nation there empeopled were. 

" Faire knight," quoth he, " Hierusalem that is, 
The New Hierusalem, that God has built 
For those to dwell in, that are chosen his. 
His chosen people purged from sinfull guilt 
With pretious blood, which cruelly was spilt 
On cursed tree, of that unspotted Lam, 
That for the sinnes of al the world was kilt : 
Now are they saints all in that citie sam,^ 
More dear unto their God than younglings to their dam." 

1 Was called. ^ Together. 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) m 

" Till now," said then the knight, " I weened well, 
That great Cleopolis ^ where I have beene, 
In which that fairest Faerie Queene doth dwell, 
The fairest citie was, that might be seene ; 
And that bright towre all built of christall clene, 
Panthea,^ seemd the brightest thing that was : 
But now by proofe all otherwise I weene ; 
For this great citie that does far surpas, 
And this bright angels towre quite dims that towre of glas." 

If we dwell upon Spenser as the representative poet of 
his time, it is because of his supreme excellence rather 
than because there is any dearth of s^enuine 

•' , ° Poetry Con- 

poets and poetry. Indeed, there is a decided temporary 
embarrassment of riches ; and it is not possible ^^^^ spenser 
to do more than hint at the varied, abundant, and exquisite 
poetic work of this remarkable generation. 

Outside of the drama and Spenser's Faerie Queene, the 
best and most characteristic work of the age was in 
lyric poetry. Its chief theme was love — human 
love, full of the Renaissance deHght in life and ^y^^P^^^^^ 
beauty — divine love, inspired by the religious fervor 
of the Reformation. Spenser himself stands first in this 
field, and next to him is probably Sir Philip Sidney. In 
the relations of actual life, Spenser was but one of the 
satellites of his noble and distinguished friend ; but in 
poetry, he is the central sun, and even Sidney is but one 
of his humble followers. Nevertheless, Sidney 
is a lyric poet of excellent quality. If he does ^^^"^^^ 
not capture the '* fine careless rapture " of some of the 
best Elizabethan songs, he is capable of a rich and full 
lyric music; and in his sonnets, he yields the palm only to 
Shakespeare and possibly Spenser. His Astrophel and 
Stella is a cycle of sonnets, apparently reflecting his un- 
rewarded, if not unrequited, love for the beautiful Penelope 

1 London. 2 ^ tower in London. 



112 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

Devereux. To these, the personal passion, the tone of 
pathos, the lofty poetic imagination, the high moral serious- 
ness of a large nature, give a charm hardly to be matched. 
Probably the best purely lyric work of the age is to be 
found scattered through the various song-books 
and through the works of the great Elizabethan 
dramatists. These lyrics were really written to be sung to 
music, and they have an ease and a sweetness of melody 
that give them a grace beyond the reach of art. Some 
poets, like Thomas Campion, are known for a goodly num- 
ber of such songs ; some keep their fame with posterity 
chiefly by virtue of a single success, as in the casd of Sir 
Edward Dyer's " My m.ind to me a kingdom is '^ ; still 
others are entirely unknown, and we have only their inimi- 
table work in evidence of the wide diffusion of the lyric 
gift during the last years of Elizabeth's reign. Among 
the writers of dramatic songs, Shakespeare stands first, as 
he does in most other respects ; but he is followed at not 
too great a distance by Lyly, Peele, Greene, Lodge, Mar- 
lowe, and other dramatic writers. Sonnet writing was one 
of the favorite poetic occupations of the age, 

Sonnet Cycles i , , . ^ r 

and whole series or cycles 01 sonnets were 

produced by many poets. We have already mentioned 
Spenser's Amoretti and Sidney's Astrophel and Stella. 
The most notable example of all is to be found in 
Shakespeare's Sonnets. Samuel Daniel's Delia and 
Michael Drayton's Idea may serve as still further illus- 
trations. 

Daniel and Drayton remind us of the popularity of still 
another kind of poetry — the historical or patriotic. We 
Historical havc observed the historical interest in Spenser's 
Poetry Faerie Queene ; and, indeed, nothing is more 

striking in the age than the enthusiasm — partly patriotic, 
partly religious, and partly personal — for England and 
England's queen. The growing number of historical or 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 113 

chronicle plays in the field of drama illustrates this same 
interest on another side. The first purely patriotic poem 
of note is William Warner's Albioiis England. 
The historical type of poetry, however, is best 
represented by Daniel and Drayton. Daniel's chief his- 
torical poems are the Complaint of Rosamond 
and the Civil Wars of York and Lancaster. 
Among other things, Drayton wrote the Barons' Wars, 
England's Heroical Epistles^ the famous Ballad 
of Aginconrt, and somewhat later, the Poly- 
olbion^ a huge work of nearly 100,000 lines, describing 
the ** tracts, mountains, forests, and other parts of this 
renowned isle of Britain, with intermixture of the most 
remarkable stories, antiquities, wonders, pleasures, and 
commodities of the same, digested into a poem." One 
may well think that all this needed considerable digestion. 
Drayton fitly calls it a " strange herculean task." In fact, 
these historical poems — though interesting as evidences 
of patriotic spirit — are unfortunate in their subject-matter. 
Spenser was much better advised by his finer poetic instinct. 
Nevertheless, it is characteristic of the historical poets 
and of their age that they were able to write passably good 
poetry even on the most unpromising themes. The same 
may be said of the philosophical and satirical poetry which 
developed somewhat later. 

Practically- contemporary with Spenser were the early 
dramatists whose work prepared the way for the supreme 
dramatic art of Shakespeare. Most, if not all, of TheUniver- 
them were university men, and they were called sity wits 
as a group the " University Wits." The first of these is 
John Lyly, the author of Eiiphues. He wrote 
much in prose, but his work is anything but pro- 
saic. Indeed, it may rather be characterized as classical, 
fanciful, witty, courtly, romantic, interspersed with charm- 
ing lyrics. There is little real dramatic power. His 



114 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

Endymion is an allegorical compliment to Queen Elizabeth. 
Thomas Kyd is best known as the author of 

Kyd ^ 

a blood-and-thunder drama called the Spanish 
Tragedy. Thomas Nash wrote with Marlowe a play called 
Dido and a prose comedy, Will Summer's Testa- 
ment. Thomas Lodge wrote Marins and Sylla 
and did other dramatic work, but is better known as a 
charming prose-writer, romancer, and lyrist. 
° ^® With George Peele, we come to work of much 

better dramatic and poetic quality. His best play, David 

and Bethsabe. is written in blank verse of much 
Peele ' 

grace and sweetness, and is a decidedly interest- 
ing drama. Robert Greene is inferior to Peele as a poet ; 
but, at least in his Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, 
he shows considerable skill in the creation of 
natural character. 

The last and greatest of the *' University Wits " is 
Christopher Marlowe. Born in the same year with Shake- 
speare (1564), he began his literary career at 
twenty-three years of age, and was dead at 
twenty-nine, stabbed in the eye in a tavern brawl. Can- 
terbury was his birthplace, and he received his early edu- 
cation there at the King's School, under the shadow of 
Canterbury Cathedral. Later, he went to Cambridge Uni- 
versity. In London, a wild and briUiant dramatic career 
was the precursor of an early death. Considering the 
shortness of his Hfe and the period at which his work was 
done, Marlowe's achievements are among the most re- 
markable in EngHsh literature. Four great tragedies 
stand to his credit — besides other work of less merit — 
and all of them are productions of singular power. Each 
of these may be said to represent some dominating idea or 
ruling passion. 

Tamburlaine deals with the career of the Scythian 
shepherd king who was termed ''the Scourge of God." 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 115 

It is a tragedy of conquest, and portrays the lust for 
tyrannical and unrestrained power. In one 

^^ 1 , . .,.,., Tamburlaine 

scene Tamburlaine appears in his chariot, drawn 

by captive kings, whom he scourges with his whip, while 

he cries : 

Holla, ye pamper'd jades of Asia! 
What, can ye draw but twenty miles a day, 
And have so proud a chariot at your heels, 
And such a coachman as great Tamburlaine? 



The horse that guide the golden eye of heaven, 
And blow the morning from their nostrils, 
Making their fiery gait above the clouds. 
Are not so honour'd in their governor 
As you, ye slaves, in mighty Tamburlaine. 

This is bombast, but it is also poetry. 

Doctor FatistiLS deals with the mediaeval legend after- 
ward handled in Goethe's Fatist, and portrays the lust for 
knowledge and pleasure. The play, in spite of Doctor 
its exaggeration and comparative formlessness, ^^'^^^'^s 
is probably Marlowe's masterpiece. In spirit, it represents 
the man, with his mingled genius and sensuality ; and it 
represents the Renaissance, with its passion for knowledge 
and its deHght in the joy of living. Faustus, in order to 
know and to enjoy, sells his soul to the Devil. When, at 
last, his hour comes, the tragic situation is one of terrible 
intensity : 

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, 
The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. 
O, ril leap up to heaven ! — Who pulls me down? — 
See, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament! 
One drop of blood will save me : O my Christ! — 
Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ ; 
Yet will I call on him : O, spare me, Lucifer! 

The Jew of Malta has for its central figure an avaricious 
and cruel Jew, and portrays the lust for wealth and for 



Il6 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

vengeance. Barabas is a monster whose greed knows no 
bounds, and whose hate knows no pity. After 

Jew of Malta .. . . ., , . , "^ 

committing the most horrible crimes, he comes to 
his death by being precipitated into a boihng caldron which 
he had prepared for his enemies. Such lines as these fitly 
express the spirit that moves him : 

For so I live, perish may all the world! 

Why, is not this 
A kingly kind of trade, to purchase towns 
By treachery and sell 'em by deceit? 

Die, life! fly, soul! tongue, curse thy fill, and die! 

Edward II portrays the agony of a weak and impotent 
king. It is perhaps the best of Marlowe's plays in dra- 
matic construction, but lacks somethinp; of the 

Edward II . -,11, r • • • 11 

vigor and boldness 01 imagination that we have 
found so characteristic of Marlowe. The other plays here 
treated deal with various conceptions of power ; Edward II 
is rather Marlowe's conception of the tragedy of weakness 
where power should exist. 

Marlowe deals with great types of human passion rather 
than with veritable human characters. He did not know, 
like Shakespeare, how to combine the type and the individual 
Marlowe's ^^ °^^ living personality. Indeed, his chief gift 
Genius aQd is a poetic rather than a dramatic one. As a 
n uence poet, he ranks with Spenser and Shakespeare ; 
in the creation of lifehke character and in the construction 
of dramatic plot, he is inferior to many of the later drama- 
tists. We need to remember, however, that he was a 
pioneer, and that later playwrights learned much from him 
as to how they might better his example. He first taught 
them, for example, the use of the " mighty line " which has 
been the greatest achievement of English metre. No less 
true is it that he, more than any other single man, deter- 
mined that English drama should emancipate itself from 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 117 

the tyranny of classical rules and models, and should assert 
the freedom of the modern romantic spirit. Henceforward, 
its limitations were to be set only by the poetic imagination 
on the one side and by the multitudinous variety of human 
life on the other. Marlowe's distinguishing qualities are 
boldness, energy, vitality, enthusiasm, rather than delicacy, 
subtlety, or refinement His faults and Hmitations are the 
defects of his qualities. It has been often asserted that 
he lacked humor ; but although he is undoubtedly far be- 
hind most of the other great dramatists in this particular, 
he has a grim and grotesque humor of his own. In addition 
to the dramas just noted, he wrote the Massacre of Paris, 
collaborated with Nash in Dido and with Shakespeare in 
Henry VI. His fine lyric gift is illustrated by his Passion- 
ate Shepherd to his Love ; and in Hero and Leander, he 
displays high capabilities as a narrative and descriptive 
poet. Here as elsewhere he manifests that passionate love 
of beauty which is the best evidence of his poetic inspira- 
tion. Marlowe wrote drama chiefly because he had fallen 
upon a dramatic age and because the field of drama offered 
the readiest way to literary fame for one who had a high 
ambitious heart but neither position nor influence. In 
pure poetry, he might well have rivalled Spenser, as in 
dramatic poetry he did rival in some respects even Shake- 
speare himself. His brief prologue to Tamburlaine, his 
first drama, sounds like a proud and at least half-con- 
temptuous challenge to his fellow-dramatists and to the 
public at large : 

From jigging veins of rhyming mother-wits, 
And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, 
We'll lead you to the stately tent of war, 
Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine 
Threatening the world with high astounding terms, 
And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword. 
View but his picture in this tragic glass, 
And then applaud his fortunes as you please. 



Il8 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

As we approach the consideration of Shakespeare, it is 
important to emphasize anew the fact that he was not an 
isolated Hterary phenomenon, but that his work comes as 
the culmination of a long course of literary and dramatic 
development. As we have seen, the modern drama, Hke 
Drama before the ancient, ariscs out of reHgion. From the 
Shakespeare ritualistic ceremonies and saintly legends of the 
mediaeval church sprang the Mysteries and the Miracle 
Plays. This dramatic type was distinctly a product of the 
Middle Ages and reached its perfection in the fifteenth 
century, more than a hundred years before Shakespeare 
was born. These mediaeval plays, however, continued to 
be acted throughout the sixteenth century; and there can 
be no doubt that Shakespeare was familiar with them and 
that he had opportunity to witness their presentation. It 
is quite within the range of probability that he had seen 
enacted in his boyhood the plays of the Coventry cycle ; 
for Coventry was but twenty miles from his home at 
Stratford. The Mysteries and Miracles were followed by 
the Moralities and Interludes; and these, too, were fre- 
quently presented during Shakespeare's lifetime. Kenil- 
worth Castle was still nearer to his home than Coventry ; 
and at Kenilworth, in 1575, when Shakespeare was a 
boy of eleven, occurred the great revels in honor of Queen 
Elizabeth, with accompaniment of pageants, plays, and var- 
ious sorts of dramatic entertainment. About a genera- 
tion before Shakespeare's birth, was produced the first 
English comedy; and the first tragedy was acted in 1561, 
only three years before Shakespeare came upon the stage 
of life. From this time dramatic development was rapid. 
Classical influences produced the ** Senecan drama " ; histor- 
ical interest gave rise to the chronicle plays ; all sorts of dra- 
matic experiments were proving, selecting, and perfecting 
the forms of drama that were fittest to survive. The 
"University Wits," with their wide learning and with 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 119 

their dramatic skill, demonstrated the literary and acting 
qualities of the new dramatic types. Marlowe, especially, 
brought really great genius to bear upon dramatic creation, 
and even where he failed himself, showed others the road. 
Shakespeare's instrument was ready to his hands ; it re- 
mained for him to use it, with a genius that understood all 
its powers and was splendidly adapted to all its capabilities. 
Not alone to obscure or famous workmen in the field 
of dramatic development must the genius of Shakespeare 
acknowledge a debt. He is in many more senses " the heir 
of all the ages." During its long and strange preparation 
history, thC' English language had been battered forshake- 
and smelted and forgeTd and filed and polished, ^^^^^^ 
until it was perhaps the most perfect literary instrument 
ever created. Many poets, with Chaucer and Spenser as 
their chiefs, had conspired to prove the power of this lan- 
guage in the realms of the higher imagination, and had 
set models of poetic expression which even the genius of 
Shakespeare must exert itself to surpass. Two races had 
combined their peculiar qualities to make the race out 
of which the greatest of dramatists sprang ; and we are 
told that Shakespeare had in his own veins both Saxon 
and Norman blood. This new race, moreover, had been 
making centuries of splendid history, to enrich Eliza- 
bethan England and to make its very soil and air full 
of poetic inspiration. The Renaissance had opened wide 
the gates of a new intellectual life, and had fired men's 
souls with the passion for knowledge, with the passion for 
achievement, and with the passion for poetry. The Refor- 
mation had stirred anew the deeper springs of the Eng- 
lish moral nature and had given to English life a new 
seriousness as well as a new significance. By way of 
more immediate influence upon Shakespeare's art, the 
stage had become a recognized social institution. The 
age was dramatic in its life ; and it called for the dramatic 



I20 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

presentation of that life. Shakespeare felt the power and 
the impulse to portray human character and to set it in 
action upon the stage. He found existing all the condi- 
tions favorable to his great achievement. He found the 
audience already gathered for the spectacle. 

William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-on-Avon, 
Warwickshire, in 1564, the sixth year of Queen Elizabeth's 
Shake- reign. We know comparatively little about his 

speare'sLife life, and that little is not the most important. Of 
knowledge that throws real light upon his work, we have 
next to nothing. In one sense, this is a real loss and dis- 
appointment ; for men naturally have an eager desire for 
information concerning the greatest of all poets and drama- 
tists. From another point of view the loss does not seem 
so great. We have Shakespeare's work, and that work is 
so extremely objective and so little personal that it does 
not stand in much need of interpretation from biographical 
facts. What manner of man Shakespeare must have been, 
we can understand from his work ; and that is what we 
chiefly wish to know. Nevertheless, biographical data have 
their interest, and it is desirable to note the main points in 
his career. Not least in importance is the fact that his 
boyhood years were spent in the beautiful " heart of 
England." Here he learned to know nature, as his works 
fully attest. If he had known only that human life of 
which he was so consummate a master, he would still have 
been a great dramatist ; but much of its subtlest charm 
and most poetic suggestion would be missing from his 
work. In this quiet country life, he doubtless developed 
his marvelous powers of observation, and probably learned 
to know men and women under primitive natural condi- 
tions before he came to study them in the more compli- 
cated relations of the larger world. There was much, too, 
in his surroundings to kindle the poetic imagination of the 
growing boy. Warwickshire was a historic and romantic 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 121 

land, great and interesting figures crossed Stratford bridge, 
strolling players brought to the little country town the 
crude dramatic productions of the day. We have no 
actual record of Shakespeare's experiences in such direc- 
tions as these ; but we can hardly err in assuming that 
such conditions had their influence upon his character and 
genius. Tradition tells us that he attended the Stratford 
Grammar School ; and there he doubtless received the ordi- 
nary education of the day. In addition to religious train- 
ing, Latin was the ordinary staple of intellectual discipline. 
Ben Jonson tells us that Shakespeare had *' small Latin 
and less Greek " ; but Jonson was a classical scholar to 
whom the ordinary schoolboy's training in these lan- 
guages would seem of little importance. Small as it was, 
it doubtless served to give Shakespeare some outlook into 
the thought and literature of the ancient world, to put him 
in touch with the intellectual spirit of his age. At the 
age of eighteen, Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway, 
a woman several years older than hiuiself. The children 
of this marriage were Susanna and the twins Hamnet and 
Judith. Some few years later, he went up to try his for- 
tunes in London. Tradition tells us that his going was 
accelerated on account of a deer-stealing episode in the 
park of Sir Thomas Lucy, a local magistrate ; and some 
verses are extant in which Shakespeare is said to have 
ridiculed the good knight. 

Whether impelled by this local difficulty, by the needs 
of his growing family, or by the promptings of his own 
genius, Shakespeare found in London the opportunities for 
his great career. His first connection with the theatre is 
said to have been a very humble one ; but he found there 
his proper atmosphere, and his genius quickly gj^^j^g. 
made itself felt. He became an actor, then a speare'sDra- 
reviser of old plays for the stage, next an orig- ^^ ^^ 
inal playwright, and finally a theatrical manager and 



122 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

owner. Before he was thirty, he was well known as a 
dramatist. There is good evidence of his familiar asso- 
ciation with eminent dramatists and with other great men 
of his day, and he attracted the favorable notice of 
Queen Elizabeth. He grew prosperous and acquired 
considerable property in his native Stratford. For many 
years he lived mostly in London, but visited his old home 
from time to time. At about the age of fifty, he retired 
to Stratford, gave up his dramatic career, and passed his 
last years in the quiet life of a country gentleman. He 
died in 16 16 at the age of fifty-two, and was buried in the 
chancel of the Stratford parish church. These bare facts 
of his life tell us little of his inward experience. The spirit- 
ual history of the man we must read, if at all, in his works. 
The whole body of Shakespeare's writings falls natu- 
rally into three divisions, corresponding to three different 
Shake- manifestations of his poetic or dramatic power, 

speare's Mis- 'p^gge divisions consist of his miscellaneous 

cellaneous 

Poems poems, his sonnets, and his dramas. His first 

known poem was Vemcs and Adonis. He called it "the 
first heir of my invention," and dedicated it to his noble 
friend and patron, Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southamp- 
ton. It is above all things a poem of youth, but of youth 
endowed with genius and filled with poetic passion. Sen- 
suousness is the word that best expresses its dominating 
quality. We feel that the poet was alive to all the physical 
beauty of the world about him, that all his senses were 
avenues of fresh deHght. Whatever faults the poem may 
have are simply the excess of the youthful poetic tempera- 
ment. Its merits are such as form the proper groundwork 
for his later poetic and dramatic achievements. The poem 
is filled with the charm of rural nature, made vital by the 
sympathetic treatment of passionate love. What an eye 
for natural detail and what a faculty for concrete imagery 
are illustrated in the description of the wild boar : 



Ili 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 123 

On his bow-back he hath a battle set 

Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes ; 

His eyes, hke glow-worms, shine when he doth fret ; 

His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes. 

What power of imaginative suggestion in the words : 

Whereat amazed, as one that unaware 
Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood. 

Lucrece is a bitterly tragic story, going beyond Venus 
and Adonis in seriousness and depth, but characterized by 
many of the same quahties. The reader is here more dis- 
turbed by the fanciful conceits and puns, such as, 
So I at each sad strain will strain a tear. 

On the other hand there is a growing sententiousness of 
expression which illustrates Shakespeare's own growth in 
worldly wisdom. In the following stanza, almost every 
line is a separate aphorism, all circling around the same 
general idea : 

'Tis double death to drown in ken of shore ; 
He ten times pines that pines beholding food ; 
To see the salve doth make the wound ache more ; 
Great grief grieves most at that would do it good ; 
Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood, 

Who, being stopped, the bounding banks o'erflows ; 

Grief dallied with nor law nor limit knows. 

Minor poems of the same group are A Lovers Com- 
plaint, The Passionate Pilgrim, and The Phcenix a?id the 
Turtle. 

If Vemis and Adonis displays the poet's earthly and 
sensual part, the Sonnets may be said to illustrate his 
transition to a higher plane of life and thought. ^^ 
They are moved by strong passion, but they take speare's son- 
a vastly wider sweep of thought and of poetic ^^^^ 
invention. Their theme is love — the love of man for man 
and the love of man for woman ; and that theme is treated 
with a poetic power matched only by the profound knowl- 



124 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (i 500-1660) 

edge of the human heart. The whole number of the 
Sonnets is one hundred and fifty-four. The first one 
hundred and twenty-six are addresed to a certain noble 
and beautiful youth, " a man right fair " ; and the re- 
mainder are addressed to a certain dark lady, " a woman 
coloured ill." The young man is praised for his noble 
qualities of mind and person, is warned against the temp- 
tations that beset his rank, is urged to marry and to per- 
petuate himself in his offspring. 

From fairest creatures we desire increase, 
That thereby beauty's rose might never die. 

He is continually addressed in language of passionate 
tenderness, language that bespeaks a love " passing the 
love of women." Even in the friend's absence and aliena- 
tion, this love remains constant. It desires to see the 
loved one redeemed from evil courses and faithful to his 
own best self. 

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem 
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give. 

The sonnets addressed to the ** dark woman " seem to 
imply on her part an irresistible fascination, but a fickle, 
selfish, and impure heart. She has been false to the poet, 
she has come between him and his friend, yet he can not 
break away from her evil spell. It may well be conceived 
how many phases of love these situations involved and 
what opportunities were given to Shakespeare for showing 
his unparalleled insight into the workings of the human 
heart. The question remains whether the Son7zets reflect 
actual personal experiences of Shakespeare's life. Did 
he here "unlock his heart," or did he not.? Some have 
seen in these poems merely a poet's flattery of a noble 
and influential patron. Others have regarded them as 
mere literary exercises, in which the poet studied and ex- 
pressed those human moods which in his dramas he was 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 125 

to portray on a larger scale. The difficulty is one which 
our limited knowledge of Shakespeare's life does not en- 
able us to solve. The personal interpretation has been 
most common and seems most natural ; and there are 
many passages which appear to carry a personal mean- 
ing. Whatever view be taken, the thought, the feeling, 
the knowledge of the human heart, and above all the ex- 
quisite poetry are unquestionably Shakespeare's. If the 
Sonnets be personal, they reveal the stain on Shake- 
speare's character of an unholy love ; they show him as 
a man who had both sinned and suffered. On the other 
hand, they show him as one who had struggled up out of 
the mire toward a nobler plane of living and a larger 
sympathy with all human weakness. Something of this 
is expressed in his own words : 

Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there 

And made myself a motley to the view, 

Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, 

Made old offences of affections new ; 

Most true it is that I have look'd on truth 

Askance and strangely : but, by all above, 

These blenches gave my heart another youth. 

One of the most beautiful of the Sonnets, and the one per- 
haps whose sentiment is most typical of the whole series, 
is here given in full : 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 

Admit impediments. Love is not love 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove: 

O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; 

It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come ; 

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 



126 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (i 500-1660) 

But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
If this be error and upon me prov'd, 
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. 

Shakespeare's crowning work is to be found in his 
dramas, and it is these that call for fullest considera- 
tion. The common classification divides them 

Shake- 

speare's mto comedics, tragedies, and history or chronicle 
Dramas plays. Significant as these divisions are, it is 

more important for our present purpose that we should 
group the plays with reference to the several periods of 
Shakespeare's life which they illustrate. This will enable 
us to see how the work in some degree reflects the genius, 
the character, and the experience of the man. Following 
the suggestive outline of Professor Brandl, we may note 
five periods of Shakespeare's dramatic career, together 
with the considerable group of dramas belonging to each. 

The first period probably covers approximately the years 
from 1588 to 1594. It is known as the period of Shake- 
First Dra- speare's dramatic apprenticeship — the period 
matic Period j^ which he was reshaping old plays, watching 
the work of other men, learning the requirements and 
capabilities of the stage, making his first original exper- 
iments, trying his own powers in various directions. All 
three classes of dramas are represented. Among com- 
edies we find Loves Labour s Lost, Comedy of Errors, Two 
Gentlemen of Vei^ona, and A Midsummer Night's Dream ; 
among tragedies, Titus Andronicus and Romeo and Juliet ; 
among histories, Henry F/ (three parts), Richard ILI, and 
Richard LL. It so happens that one play in each of these 
three classes stands out far above the rest — something 
more than prentice work, filled rather with promise of the 
supreme masterpieces to come. A Midsummer Nighfs 
Dream is pure sport of the fancy. Human life is por- 
trayed, from noble to clown, but it is human Hfe played 
upon by the whimsical magic of fairy sprites. Puck 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 127 

misleads and confuses the romantic lovers; Titania, the 
fairy queen, is enamored of bully Bottom, the weaver, who 
has been transformed into an ass ; all sorts of fantastic 
happenings are possible in the poetic atmosphere of this 
moonlight wood. The spirit of the drama is suggested by 
such lines as these : 

Puck. What fools these mortals be. 

Theseus. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet 

Are of imagination all compact. 

Romeo and Juliet is the extremely beautiful and poetical 
tragedy of youthful passion. Against the dark back- 
ground of hatred and feud between the two houses of 
Montague and Capulet, the fair young lovers stand. They 
meet, they love, they yield themselves to each other as 
though love were its own defence and had no need to 
fear the thunderbolt. They are encompassed, however, by 
forces which they can not break through ; and the dark 
fate which holds them in its circle allows only that they 
should die together. Richard III is one of the best acting 
dramas among Shakespeare's historical plays. Though 
somewhat crude as compared with his best work, it is a 
wonderfully impressive production. Richard is a tremen- 
dous figure, and the action is guided by the motives of 
ambition, cruelty, and remorse. In addition to the dramas 
mentioned, the miscellaneous poems also belong to this 
period. 

Shakespeare's second period is called by Brandl the 
Falstaff Period. It is otherwise described as the period 
of Shakespeare's great comedies, of his rapid second Dra- 
growth in dramatic art, of his broader and richer ^^^^^ ^^ria^ 
knowledge of human life. The Sonnets belong to this 
period, and they indicate that it was a time of transition 
from youth to mature manhood. The years covered are 
from about 1595 to about 1600. One notable feature of 
the period is that it contains no tragedies. Its comedies 



128 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (i 500-1660) 

are The Merchant of Venice, The Tmning of the Shrew , " 
The Merry Wives of Winds or y and Much Ado About 
Nothing; its histories are King John , Henry IV (two 
parts), and Henry V. Again one play in each class is 
decidedly superior to the others. The Merchant of Venice 
is the greatest of Shakespeare's comedies, the greatest 
comedy of the world. Shylock is the grandest figure that 
the dramatist has thus far created. The victory of the 
Christians over the despised but implacable Jew makes 
him a tragic victim in the midst of the joyous and briUiant 
life around him. In Portia, Shakespeare has gone beyond 
Juliet, and has portrayed one of his noblest and rnost 
richly endowed women.- The comedy is bright with 
humor, beautiful with romance, rich with poetry ; but it is 
also deep and serious in its underlying conception of life. 
Christian contempt breeds Jewish hatred. Revenge 
through subtlety and cunning is the natural impulse of the 
oppressed race. The superior race becomes proud, con- 
temptuous, arrogant, and cruel in its superiority. In the 
antagonism between the two races, power is on the side of 
the Christians. They pass over to happiness and light and 
laughter at Belmont, while the thwarted and beaten Jew 
slinks away to his kennel in the Ghetto. Such are some of 
the striking features of this masterly drama. In Henry IV, 
we have Shakespeare's greatest historical play. Here 
three notable figures stand in significant relation to each 
other. In the centre is Prince Hal, spending his youth in 
wild dissipation, but cherishing high and noble purposes in 
his heart. On the one side of him is the superb comic 
figure of Falstaff, associate of his folly and riotous living. 
On the other side is Hotspur, inciting him by high example 
to the emulation of noble deeds. Prince Hal sows his 
wild oats, but at the crisis plays the man and shows him- 
self in due time to be a wise, vaHant, and upright king. 
One can hardly help comparing his career with Shake- 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 129 

speare's own. We have some reason to suppose that 
Shakespeare also sowed his wild oats and had opportunity 
to see "by means of the Evil that Good is best." He 
knew well that the sowing of wild oats brings its proper 
harvest ; but he also knew the possibilities of human 
redemption from the ways of folly and sin. 

We have seen in Shakespeare's second period the evi- 
dences of a broadening and deepening conception of hu- 
man life. It is this more serious view of the ^.^^^^ u^^. 
world that is characteristic of his third period, matic Period 
extending from 1601 to 1604. It is fittingly designated as 
the Hamlet Period. The comedies of the period are As 
You Like It, Twelfth Night, AlVs Well that Ends Well, 
and MeasiLve for Measure ; the tragedies 2,xq Julius Ccesar, 
Hamlet, and Othello. The first-named comedy is the best 
of its group. It is a beautiful pastoral romance. Not the 
least significant thing about it is the way in which, amid 
all its lightness and gayety, it strikes* the deeper note. 
This is illustrated by the well-known passage beginning, 
"All the world's a stage." It appears also in the char- 
acter of the "melancholy Jaques," who is a dim anticipa- 
tion of Hamlet. Measure for Measure is almost tragic in 
its bitterness. Julius Ccesar\?> the greatest of Shakespeare's 
Roman dramas. The other two tragedies are the dramas 
most characteristic of the period. In Hamlet, " the world 
is out of joint," and the tragedy of human life is deep and 
incurable. That tragedy lies in Hamlet's own nature. 
He is brave, he is resolute ; but in him " the native hue of 
resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought." 
It is not that he is incapable of vigorous and decisive 
action ; he can act as swiftly and directly as the best when 
he is absolutely sure of his grounds. His difficulty is that 
he sees too clearly all the consequences and implications 
of his deed. In him we have a finely organized, intellec- 
tual, and imaginative temperament hampering the power 



130 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

of action and of will. He realizes his own defect, and, im- 
patient at himself, acts at times with a sudden rashness. 
Caught at last in the toils, he falls a victim to his own 
most noble temperament. He brings down his enemies 
with him in his fall ; but he must perforce leave to others 
the task of setting the world to rights. Othello has com- 
monly been interpreted as a tragedy of jealousy ; but it is 
rather a tragedy of conflict between three great forces — 
jealousy, honor, and wedded love. Othello is not a type 
of the jealous spirit — a negro savage breaking through 
the restraints of civilized life. He is not at all by nature 
a jealous man. The true exemplar of jealousy in the 
drama is lago. By the most deviHsh ingenuity he per- 
suades Othello of the infidelity of Desdemona and rouses 
him to action. The spirit in which Othello kills Desde- 
mona is well expressed in his own words : 

For naught I did in hate, but all in honour. 

Honor and love struggle for the mastery in his great soul. 
He would fain avoid the task that he feels to be laid upon 
him, but his sense of duty and of justice is too strong. 
When his awful deed is done and he realizes his fatal 
mistake, it is love that triumphs in his soul. These words 
should be his vindication : 

When you shall these unlucky deeds relate. 
Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, 
Nor set down aught in malice ; then must you speak 
Of one that loved not wisely but too well ; 
Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought 
PerplexM in the extreme ; of one whose hand. 
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away 
Richer than all his tribe. 

From 1605 to 1608 extends a fourth period which is in 
Fourth Dra- ^lany ways a continuation of the third. The 
matic Period sense of tragedy in human life grows still 
deeper. A real bitterness against the world seems to have 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 131 

come into the poet's soul. He is on the verge of pessi- 
mism and misanthropy. The cheerful and hopeful view 
of life seems for the time to have passed utterly away. 
It is the Lear Period. Here are the tragedies, Coriolanus, 
King Lear, Macbeth, and Antony and Cleopatra ; here, also, 
are two dramas, the one a comedy and the other a tragedy, 
which Brandl characterizes as satirical dramas, Troiliis 
and Cressida and Timon of Athens. These last two plays, 
in their bitterness and misanthropy, are in a sense the 
most characteristic of the period. They show Shake- 
speare's extreme reach in this direction ; and they show 
also that even Shakespeare could not create great work in 
such a spirit. The greatest dramas of the period are the two 
mighty tragedies. King Lear and Macbeth. In King Lear, 
Shakespeare has drawn a dark and awful picture of the 
ingratitude of children toward a father. The old king has 
divided his kingdom between his two eldest daughters, 
casting off his youngest child, Cordelia, because she will 
not stoop to flatter him in his folly. The cruelty of his 
children drives Lear to madness and despair. There is no 
more terrible and pathetic picture in literature than that 
of the mad king, bareheaded in the tempest, with no 
companion save his poor faithful fool. The story of 
Gloster and his cruel son affords both parallel and con- 
trast to the main action. The meaning of the drama lies 
in the words : 

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 

To have a thankless child. 

Its cruelties suggest the question of Lear, " Is there 
any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts } " 
Macbeth is a tragedy of ambition, of crime, of remorse, 
of retribution. The witches upon the barren heath, with 
their "supernatural soliciting," have lodged in Macbeth's 
mind the tempting suggestion that he shall be king. With 
the encouragement and help of his wife, he plans and 



132 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

accomplishes the murder of the good King Duncan. One 
crime necessitates another ; and first he murders Banquo 
and then annihilates the family of Macduff. The ghost 
of Banquo, sitting at his table, invisible to all but him, 
marks the beginning of his terrible punishment. Like 
Richard III, he has all the courage of a man and a sol- 
dier, can truly say, " what man dare, I dare " ; but the 
guilt in his heart makes him afraid of shadows. Lady 
Macbeth, too, is haunted by the same remorse ; she walks 
in her sleep, rubbing her hands in agony, and crying, *' all 
the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand." 
When her death is announced to Macbeth, he repUes in 
a tone of despairing pessimism : 

She should have died hereafter ; 

There would have been a time for such a word. 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 

To the last syllable of recorded time, 

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! 

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player 

That stmts and frets his hour upon the stage 

And then is heard no more ; it is a tale 

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 

Signifying nothing. 

Fortunately for Shakespeare and for the world, his 
mood of bitterness does not last. He does not cease to 
regard life seriously, he does not entirely escape from the 
sense of gloom and tragedy; but he passes on into a 
serener mood. 

In which the burthen of the mystery, 

In which the heavy and the weary weight 

Of all this unintelligible world, 

Is lightened. 1 

This fifth period lies between the years 1608 and 
161 3. It has been called the period of the Romances; it 

1 Wordsworth, Lines cofuposed near Tintern Abbey. 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 133 

contains three '' romance-comedies," — Cymbeline, The 
Winter's Tale, and TJie Tempest — and a '* romance-his- 
tory," Henry VIII. Shakespeare had always been pifth Dra- 
a romantic poet; but here the word "romantic" matic Period 
seems to take on a larger and higher meaning. The poet 
turns away from the heart-breaking realities of the actual 
world to a realm of pure and serene imagination of which 
he alone is the creator and the potent lord. The typical 
play of the period is The Tempest. It is in some sense an 
epitome of all that he has done. Here is human life, from 
Prospero the seer to Trinculo the drunken jester, from Fer- 
dinand the prince to Miranda " so perfect and so peer- 
less." Here, also, is Ariel the " tricksy spirit," and here 
Caliban the half-beast. The human life is real, but it is 
surrounded with an atmosphere of enchantment such as 
exists only in Prospero's magic isle. The wonders of the 
play are a type of the wonders which Shakespeare's imagi- 
nation has conjured up before the world. He has scooped 
out of nothingness a new realm of dreams which he has 
peopled with figures almost as real as those of actual life. 
He has taught us in The Tempest that human life itself is 
a dream, 

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 

With such words as these Shakespeare closes his great 
career, and goes home to his quiet life and quiet death at 
Stratford. " The rest is silence." " Like Prospero, he has 
broken his staff and cast his book into the sea, into a depth 
which the plummet will never sound." But his work remains. 



134 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

He is the largest figure in the world's literature — preem- 
inently great as a poet, as a dramatist, as an artist in form, 
as a seer and interpreter of human life. The 

Shake- . r ^ • • 1. . 

speare's great Dusmess of a dramatist is to create living 
Genius human characters that shall be at once individual 

and typical, and to bring these characters into such rela- 
tions with each other as shall produce a true and har- 
monious picture of human life. Shakespeare's genius was 
adequate to all the demands of such a task. He had an 
unequalled knowledge of humanity, a deep and true in- 
sight into life and character. The subtlety of his analysis 
was matched only by the force and vividness of his crea- 
tive power in the portrayal of living men and women. In 
his almost infinite variety there is truly " God's plenty." 
No man has ever had such breadth and intensity of artistic 
sympathy; and no man has ever been more objective and 
impartial in his treatment of all sorts and conditions of 
men. The range of his dramatic power is amazing ; but 
his mastery of form seems always commensurate with his 
powers of conception. His stage is the world, his char- 
acters are types of universal mankind, his subject is the 
human soul. In his portrayal, he seems to mingle and 
fuse apparently contradictory elements. His imagination 
unites the realistic with the romantic, combines the humor- 
ous and grotesque with what is most deeply tragic. The 
development of his art — and doubtless of his character — 
was toward self-confidence, self-mastery, serenity, a gen- 
erous but profound morality. If any man was ever in har- 
mony with nature, it was he. Consciously or unconsciously, 
he understood the world in which he lived, sympathized 
with it, and had the power to portray it. As a pure 
poet, he is almost equally great. He was "of imagination 
all compact." He had the poet's passion for beauty and 
the poet's gift of music. Without these special powers, 
he might still have been a great dramatist ; but his dra- 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (i 579-1625) 135 

matic work is immeasurably exalted by his genius as a poet. 
It is the glory of his art that he is at once supremely poetic 
and supremely true. 

Ben Jonson — probably, all things considered, the great- 
est of Shakespeare's dramatic contemporaries — was a 
younger man than Shakespeare by nearly ten years, and 
lived for over twenty years after Shakespeare's 
death. The best dramatic work of the two men, 
however, was substantially contemporary, and their inti- 
mate personal association naturally links them together. 
Jonson's genius is in very great contrast with that of 
Sbakespeare and at almost the opposite extreme from 
that of Marlowe. He was probably not a university 
man ; but, nevertheless, he was perhaps quite the most 
learned poet of his age. The foundations of his scholar- 
ship were well laid by an excellent education at West- 
minster School, under the walls of Westminster Abbey 
in London ; and upon this foundation he zealously 
built by his own lifelong efforts as a student. His 
learning was chiefly classical, as was natural in that 
age of the Renaissance ; and it united with the natural 
bent of Jonson's mind to make him the great classical 
dramatist in an age of romantic writers. We have ob- 
served the tendency to conform EngUsh drama to clas- 
sical models — a tendency that was resisted and overcome 
chiefly by Marlowe and Shakespeare. With this classical 
tendency Jonson was largely in sympathy ; and if all the 
Elizabethan dramatists had been of his mind, the character 
of Enghsh drama would have been far different. Jonson, 
moreover, Was less a born genius than a conscious and 
trained artist. He was not, Hke Marlowe, swept away by 
his passion ; rather, he thoroughly understood his business 
as a dramatist, and accompHshed his results with fore- 
thought and deliberation. The common antithesis has 
been that Jonson had art while Shakespeare had nature^ 



136 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

and it is as true as any such general statement can well 
be. Still another point of difference between Jonson and 
most other Elizabethan dramatists lies in the fact that he 
was very much of a realist. His experience had been 
such as to give him a wide and accurate knowledge of 
men and things. He was a keen and shrewd observer, 
and his mind was stored with such superficial knowledge 
of life and character as observation can give. In particu- 
lar, he was well acquainted with the life of London, and 
had an inclination and an aptitude for the portrayal of 
its oddities and whimsicalities — what he called its ''hu- 
mours." There is nothing of this in Marlowe ; there is 
little in Shakespeare, although he — thoroughgoing ro- 
manticist as he was — knew how in his own way to reach 
the essential realities of life. It may be further observed 
that Jonson, Hke Shakespeare, knew the theatre, and was 
therefore a practical playwright as well as a theoretical 
artist. This has given to his best plays an acting quality 
which is lacking in the dramas of Marlowe and of some 
later as well as earlier writers. The personal characteris- 
tics of the man are scarcely less interesting than his genius, 
and have at least an indirect relation to his literary work. 
He was a burly figure — direct, honest, and independent. 
His nature was aggressive and pugnacious, and in the 
course of his life he had many quarrels on his hands, lit- 
erary and otherwise. It is reported that he killed two 
men in duels and that he came near being hanged. He 
was in every way a commanding personality and came 
nearer than any other man to dominating the great circle 
in which he moved. Withal, he was genial and convivial, 
a central figure in the tavern combats of wit. Speaking 
of Shakespeare, Thomas Fuller writes : " Many were the 
wit-combats betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which two I 
behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English 
man-of-war; Master Jonson, like the former, was built 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 137 

far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his perform- 
ances. Shakespeare, with the English man-of-war, lesser 
in bulk but Ughter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack 
about, and take advantage of all winds by the quickness of 
his wit and invention." In a word, Jonson was a man to 
be loved, hated, but never ignored. His epitaph, carved 
in three separate places in Westminster Abbey, is one of 
the most appropriate and suggestive ever written : '' O rare 
Ben Johnson ! " 

Jonson's first play was a comedy with the characteristic 
title. Every Man in his Hinnonr. It deals with certain 
phases of London life, and illustrates his realism, jonson's 
his treatment of " humours," and his observance Dramas 
of classical rules. This was shortly followed by Every 
Man ont of his Humour. Other plays of the same gen- 
eral type are The Silent Woman and The Alchemist. The 
latter is probably his masterpiece in comedy. Its theme is 
quackery, and its central figures are three finely contrasted 
impostors — Subtle, Face, and Dol Common. They are 
banded together to dupe " not one or two gulls, but a 
whole flock of them." The notable figure of the play is 
the famous Sir Epicure Mammon, a singular compound 
of luxury, lust, credulity, greed, and fertile imagination. 
The plot becomes very complicated, as the various dupes 
all flock to the house at the same time and yet must be 
kept from knowledge of each other. Jonson weaves 
these various threads of interest into a most masterly 
plot, and leads up with great skill to the humorous catas- 
trophe. Volpone, or The Fox, is not so much the treat- 
ment of a "humour" as of a master passion. Its central 
figure is an avaricious Venetian nobleman. There is in it 
more of romantic atmosphere than in most of Jonson's 
dramas. Representative of his more purely classical work 
and also of his method in tragedy, are his Sejanus and his 
Catiline. Nowhere is the contrast between him and Shake- 



138 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (i 500-1660) 

speare more striking. Jonson brought to bear all his learn- 
ing, aimed at scrupulous fidelity to historical fact, sought 
to portray Romans and Roman life as they actually had 
been ; he carefully avoided mingling comedy with tragedy. 
Shakespeare, on the other hand, was very little concerned 
about historical accuracy, exercised a large freedom in 
portraying men simply as men, and had no hesitation in 
mingling the humorous and the tragic as they are mingled 
in actual life. No plays seem to have been more popu- 
lar on the stage than Jonson's. This appears somewhat 
strange considering the romantic tendencies of the age; 
but it is due perhaps in part to Jonson's personal popu- 
larity and possibly in still greater measure to the natural- 
ness of the characters and the skilful construction of the 
plots. It is certainly not due to their poetic charm, for in 
Jonson's best acting plays there is remarkably little poetry. 
Yet Jonson was a genuine poet. This is shown in some 
of his minor plays, and it is shown still more emphatically 
Jonson's ^^ his Masques. The masque was a sort of lyr- 
Masques \q^^ ^^d mythological dramatic production, usually 
presented with the accompaniment of gorgeous costume 
and of elaborate scenery and stage machinery. Jonson 
wrote many masques of much lyrical beauty ; and his 
work in this kind is the best in English literature with 
the single exception of Milton's Comus^ written three years 
before Jonson's death. 

Jonson wrote some noble poetry entirely outside of 
dramatic lines. The most of this was gathered up in two 
volumes known as The Forest and Underwoods. The best 
Jonson's of it is in the form of personal odes and of Hght 
Poems and graceful lyric pieces. The former show 

Jonson as a man of fine moral dignity, of religious nature, 
of humble and reverent spirit, of manly temper. The 
latter are so surprisingly beautiful and delicate that it 
seems hard at first thought to believe that they could have 



I 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 139 

been written by the same strong hand that wrote the plays. 
Perhaps the best known of his lighter lyrics is that begin- 
ning : 

Drink to me only with thine eyes. 

Jonson was a prose-writer also, his most important work 
bearing the title of Timber^ or Discoveries made tipon 
Men and Matter. It consists of notes, thoughts, jonson's 
aphorisms, and short essays, and expresses his ^^°^® 
ideas upon subjects ethical, rhetorical, critical, literary, 
artistic, educational, political, and historical. His style is 
more plain and direct than most written in his age, and 
shows more approach toward the method of modern 
prose. 

The names of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher are 
inseparably linked together in literary history. Fifty- 
two plays are attributed to them, and most of Beaumont 
these were the result of their joint authorship, and Fletcher 
It is the common tradition that Fletcher's genius was the 
more creative and Beaumont's the more critical. However 
this may be, the work of the two is thoroughly welded to- 
gether and bears a unique stamp. It is as typically romantic 
as Jonson's is typically classical. As a whole, it is poet- 
ical, as romantic drama ought to be. The plays were very 
popular upon the stage, and this popularity was justified by 
their admirable construction and excellent acting qualities. 
On the moral side there is a decided lowering of tone, and 
some of the plays are extremely coarse. Many of the charac- 
ters are natural and lifelike, and fill the stage with bright 
and joyous figures. Sometimes, however, there is exaggera- 
tion, distortion, and vulgarity in the treatment of character. 
Beaumont and Fletcher know little or nothing of those 
deeper laws of life of which Shakespeare was the great 
portrayer and revealer. They have little of that elevation 
and dignity which marks the best work of Jonson. Some 
of their finest sentiments are put into the mouths of their 



140 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

worst villains, and life seems ordered more by the dictates 
of romantic fancy than by its own inevitable laws. ' In 
spite of all limitations, however, their work has an un- 
doubted and continuing fascination. It represents drama 
in its decline from the moral and poetic and artistic height 
of Shakespeare ; but it still belongs to the great age, before 
the drama had fallen into decay. 

The best work of Beaumont and Fletcher was in ro- 
mantic comedy, lying between their tragic work on the 
one side and their broad farcical comedy on the other. 
No single play is more representative than Phil- 
aster, which might almost be called a tragi- 
comedy. It deals with the love of Philaster for the Princess 
Arethusa and his groundless jealousy of the page Bellario. 
Bellario finally turns out to be the beautiful and noble lady 
Euphrasia, who, because of her love for Philaster, has long 
followed him in the disguise of a page. The play ends 
with the marriage of Philaster and Arethusa and with the 
elevation of Philaster to the kingship, of which he is the 
rightful heir. There are some strong scenes and some 
vigorous characters. The plot is in the main rapid and 
interesting. The situations are dramatic and varied, rang- 
ing from the purely romantic to the vividly realistic. The 
character of Euphrasia is a charming creation — romantic, 
beautiful, and affecting. Her pathetic situation at the 
close, after she has been the means of bringing the lovers 
together, adds the touch of tragedy which deepens the 
effect of the whole drama. 

The dramatic product of the Age of Shakespeare must 
have been immense. We know that many plays — prob- 
MinorDra- ^^^ ^^^ majority — have been lost ; and yet we 
maticcon- still retain the names and the works — in some 
ofShake-^ cases voluminous — of more than thirty dram a- 
speare tists. Many of these are to us mere shadows, 

except for their works ; and in many cases the authorship 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 141 

of the plays is a matter of great uncertainty. The briefest 
possible mention of a few of the most prominent among 
Shakespeare's dramatic contemporaries must suffice for the 
present purpose. . 

George Chapman is best known to posterity as the 
translator of Homer. His work in this direction has been 
highly esteemed down to our own day, and has even been 
called, by Saintsbury, '' the best translation into English 
verse of any classic, ancient or modern, ex- George 
cept FitzGerald's Omar K/iayymny In original chapman 
poetry he displays considerable power, but falls under 
the charge of unnaturalness and obscurity. His dramatic 
works make the same impression of great though unregu- 
lated power. Many of them are of the history or chronicle 
type, and deal with almost contemporary French history. 
His tragic efforts have something of Marlowe's bombastic 
rant, without Marlowe's excuse. In comedy he is among 
the best of the minor dramatists. 

John Marston was a satirical poet, and the strain of 
bitter and gloomy sarcasm runs through most of his dramas. 
His most typical work is The Malcontent, a j^j^^ 
satirical play of the same general type as Marston 
Mohere's Misanthrope. Like Chapman, he seems to imi- 
tate Marlowe's thunder without Marlowe's power. The 
practice of collaboration among the Elizabethan dramatists 
is well illustrated by the fact that Jonson, Chapman, and 
Marston united in the production of Eastzvard Ho, a play 
which seems to have given offence to King James because 
of a slur on the Scots. 

The height of Shakespeare is reached by many ascents, 
and Thomas Dekker approaches him on the side of his 
poetry, his humor, and his tenderness. We Thomas 
know practically nothing of Dekker from any ex- ^^^kker 
ternal evidence ; but from his certain work we can shape 
a fairly distinct conception of his character and genius. 



142 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

His plays are gay, sweet, pathetic, and sometimes touched 
with charming fancy — as in his Old Fortimatiis , dealing 
with the familiar fairy-tale of the wishing-cap and the in- 
exhaustible purse. His blank verse is often beautiful, his 
dramatic lyrics are worthy to be mentioned with those of 
Shakespeare and of Beaumont and Fletcher, and what is 
perhaps his greatest praise, no minor dramatist of the age 
surpasses him in the treatment of women. 

Thomas Heywood was called by Charles Lamb '* a prose 
Shakespeare," by which phrase Lamb seems to have meant, 
Thomas not that Heywood was a master of poetic and 
Heywood imaginative prose, but that he was able to treat 
well in a prosaic fashion those more ordinary and prosaic 
aspects of life which Shakespeare could clothe with the 
charm of poetic fancy. Thus understood, the characteriza- 
tion is just, and constitutes no mean praise. Heywood's 
most famous and typical work is A Woman Killed with 
Kindness. That he was an exceedingly voluminous writer 
is shown by his claim to have had "a whole hand or a 
main finger in two hundred and twenty plays." He is not 
to be confounded with John Heywood, the pre-Elizabethan 
writer of interludes. 

Thomas Middleton was much more poetical and had a 
wider range of dramatic ability. Most of his plays are 
comedies of contemporary manners and hold a fair rank 
Thomas with the many other plays of this type. The 
Middleton Spanish Gypsy is a romantic comedy of much 
finer quality. In tragedy Middleton was inclined toward 
the drama of blood and violence. His two masterpieces are 
Women Beware Women and The Changeling, in which 
gloomy horror is not much relieved by crude and farcical 
comedy. The Witch is best known because of its interest- 
ing association with Shakespeare's Macbeth. 

The last and in some respects the greatest of the con- 
temporaries of Shakespeare who can be dealt with here 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 143 

is John Webster. Shakespeare aside, he is unmatched 
for pure poetry in drama except by Marlowe. 

AT 1 - 4. ' w ^ -ui 4- • John Webster 

No less emment is his terrible tragic power; 
and in the creation of splendid types of character that yet 
are thoroughly human, Shakespeare alone is his superior. 
Webster's dramas are not pleasant reading — they are too 
ghastly, too horrible, too full of death and blood ; they 
have too little of naturalness and of orderly arrangement 
in the plot. But they are vivid, impressive, and tremen- 
dously forcible ; and they display a poetic imagination that 
ranges from pathetic to sublime. His two greatest plays 
are Vittoria Corombona, or The White Devil^ and The 
Duchess of Malfi. Both deal with Italian themes ; and 
those who are disposed to criticise Webster too severely for 
the horrors which he serves up so freely should at least 
remember that those horrors find large justification in the 
facts of Itahan life and history during the sixteenth cen- 
tury. 

Some of the dramatic work just described was written 
during the last years of Elizabeth's reign, which ended in 
1603 ; but most of it was produced during the reign of 
James I, which continued until 1625. The Jacobean 
poetry written between these two dates has been Poetry 
already in part anticipated ; for the Elizabethan lyric po- 
etry still continued with only gradual change of quality, 
and the later works of the historical poets, Daniel and 
Drayton, belong to this later period. Reminding our- 
selves of this overlapping of periods, which is one of the 
marked features of this crowded age, we may take up the 
thread of poetic development. Some of the best poetry 
of the time was written by the dramatists, and has already 
been mentioned or alluded to. Shakespeare's Sonnets^ of 
course, stand in the first rank. Jonson's lyric poems add 
much to the poetic total ; and Chapman's original and 
translated work is of real importance. We may also re- 



144 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

mind ourselves again of the exquisite songs of such dram- 
atists as Shakespeare, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Dekker. 
Perhaps the first name that ought to be mentioned after 
these is that of Sir Walter Raleigh — a name unmatched 
Sir Walter ^^^ romautic charm except by that of Sir Philip 
Raleigh Sidney. Raleigh was a true Elizabethan ; and 

many of his achievements and some of his literary produc- 
tions belong to the earlier reign. Nevertheless, although 
he was over fifty years of age when Elizabeth died, and 
although his name is forever associated with hers, as a 
literary figure he belongs chiefly to the reign of James. It 
can hardly be doubted that he had sufficient genius to have 
given him a place among the greatest poets of the age — 
to have ranked him even beside his friend Spenser ; but 
his was a life chiefly devoted to action and adventure, 
and literature claimed him mainly in those days which he 
spent in disgrace and imprisonment. The few lyrics that 
are certainly his show a mingling of lofty and dignified 
emotion with pure lyric music. Several of these connect 
themselves pretty clearly with his well-known reverses of 
fortune, and tradition tells us that some of his verses 
were written on the night before he was beheaded. 
The following lines are said to have been found in his 
Bible : 

Even such is time, that takes in trust 
Our youth, our joys, our all we have, 
And pays us but with earth and dust ; 
Who, in the dark and silent grave, 
When we have wandered all our ways, 
Shuts up the story of our days ; 
But from this earth, this grave, this dust, 
My God shall raise me up, I trust ! 

A very different name is that of John Donne, famous 
preacher, theologian, Dean of St. Paul's, and metaphysical 
poet. Donne is regarded by most competent authorities 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 145 

as a really great poet; but his poetry can hardly be said 
to make a very strong appeal to the ordinary reader. It 
is beyond question, however, that it did exert 
a powerful influence upon the development of 
English poetry. While as a preacher Donne is associated 
with the religious spirit of the age, as a poet he is a child 
of the Renaissance. He is so through his earlier passion- 
ate love poetry ; he is so, too, in the pathetic meditation on 
death which grows out of an intense love for life ; he is so 
to some extent in his poetic form. His later productions 
were more religious and philosophical. As a whole, his 
poetry is charged with intense thought and with intense 
feeling. The description of him as a " metaphysical poet " 
implies an excessive intellectual ingenuity, which makes 
his poetic images at times merely fantastic, and which is 
not conducive to direct, sincere, and simple poetic ex- 
pression. Largely through his influence, so-caUed " con- 
ceits," clever and ingenious tricks of language, became a 
fashion with later poets. One of the less objectionable of 
his own appears in the following lines : 

Our two souls therefore, which are one, 
Though I must go, endure not yet 
A breach, but an expansion, 
Like gold to airy thinness beat. 

This, though fanciful, is not unpoetical. Immediately 
afterward, however, he compares the two souls to a pair 
of compasses. What redeems Donne's poetry and what 
probably makes it most esteemed by his admirers, is the 
occasional splendid flash of genuine poetic imagination, 
lighting up the obscurity of his verse as with a sudden 
glare of lightning. 

One of the most genuine and most charming poets 
of the early seventeenth century was William wiiuam 
Browne. His principal work is Britannia's Pas- Browne 
torals. Besides this, he wrote The Shepherd's Pipe^ The 



146 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

Inner Temple Masque^ and a varied collection of minor 
poems. His poetry has much of the Elizabethan and 
Renaissance spirit. His conceptions are classical, he is 
possessed by the love of beauty, and his verse is often 
finely musical. In all this, he was an acknowledged disci- 
ple of Spenser, and gives us occasion to note that Spen- 
ser's influence united with that of Ben Jonson and Donne 
to 'determine the character of English poetry during this 
generation and afterward. What is new and original in 
Browne is his poetical treatment of nature. He writes of 
it in the prevailing classical fashion, and his poetry is full 
of the nymphs and spirits of wood and water ; but he knew 
nature directly, and his descriptions are often full of fresh- 
ness and naturalness as well as of poetic charm. He has 
a true artistic instinct for music and for color. He com- 
bines in an interesting way the high moral tone of Puri- 
tanism with Renaissance delight in beauty. 

A poet associated with Browne through intimate per- 
sonal friendship and through some similarity in poetic work 
George IS Georgc Wither. They were of nearly equal 

Wither ^gc ; but Withcr's life was the longer by nearly 

a quarter of a century. Although he lived well through 
the age of Milton, most of his best poetry was written in 
his early life, the chief exception being a collection of 
sacred songs entitled Hallelujah. The work that connects 
him most closely with Browne is his Shepherd's Hunting 
and his collaboration with Browne in the latter 's Shepherd's 
Pipe. His poetical work was doubtless the better for 
Browne's influence. Wither's nature was the sterner of 
the two, as is illustrated by his satire entitled Abuses Stript 
and Whipt and by his religious poetry. He became more 
and more of a Puritan, and in latter life expressed repent- 
ance for his often beautiful and always innocent earlier 
poetry. Doubtless his love for beauty, in nature, in 
woman, in poetry, and in life, seemed to him a frivolous 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 147 

and even sinful indulgence. The names of the two poetic 
friends are thus linked together in an old couplet : 

And long may England's Thespian springs be known 
By lovely Wither and by bonny Browne. 

The Scotch poetry of the period is well represented by 
William Drummond, friend and follower of Ben Jonson. 
From his beautiful and romantic home on the bank of the 
river Esk, near Edinburgh, he is always known Drummond of 
as Drummond of Hawthornden. Jonson visited Hawthornden 
him there in 1619 ; and from the visit arose Drummond's 
famous Co7iversations with Ben Jonson, which contained 
some rather indiscreet passages. His poetry as a whole 
is that of a skilful writer rather than that of the born poet. 
Yet it is not altogether without passion and depth. His love 
poetry is inspired by sorrow over the death of his betrothed 
bride ; and his sacred poetry is the outcome of a serious relig- 
ious nature. His elegies and pastorals are of less poetic 
value. Probably his best formal work is in his sonnets, 
though he had an excellent gift for pure lyric expression. 

Turning from Jacobean poetry to Jacobean prose, we 
come at once upon one of the most striking and impor- 
tant figures of the age. The generation to which Shake- 
speare belonged produced a variety of splendid types in 
various departments of literature — types like Sidney, Ra- 
leigh, Spenser, Marlowe, and Shakespeare himself. Its 
type of pure and cold intelligence is Francis prands 
Bacon, Lord High Chancellor, Baron Verulam, ^^con 
Viscount St. Albans, greatest philosopher and greatest 
scientist of his age. With the lawyer, the judge, the 
statesman, the noble, the scholar, and the investigator, we 
have not here much to do ; for these characters of the 
man have only an indirect association with literature. 
Nor are we more concerned with the controversy concern- 
ing his personal character. Pope called him ** the wisest, 



148 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

brightest, meanest of mankind." The epigram is both ex- 
aggerated and uncharitable, but it suggests something of 
the astonishing contrasts to be found in Bacon's nature. 
He was a son of the Renaissance, in some of his best 
qualities as in some of his worst. He had its largeness 
and its eagerness of intelligence, its love of learning, its 
freedom of spirit, though he perhaps lacked something 
of its generous enthusiasm. His faults were those of too 
much intellect and too little heart. 

The larger part of Bacon's life belongs to the reign of 
Elizabeth ; but his greatest achievements, both Hterary and 
other, fall within the reign of James I. His philosophical 
Bacon's ^nd Scientific works — those upon which he ex- 

works pected his fame chiefly to rest — were written in 

Latin, and it is only incidentally that he becomes a writer 
of English prose. Indeed, the limitations of Bacon's purely 
literary instinct are well shown by his opinion that English 
was not a safe medium through which to hand down a 
great work to posterity. With magnificent intellectual 
audacity, he declared, " I have taken all knowledge to be 
my province " ; and his literary plan was commensurate 
with this declaration. He projected a great work in 
Latin which was to be called the Instaiiratio Magna 
Scientiariim, and was to cover the whole field of natural 
philosophy. Only the second part of this, the Novum Or- 
ganuin, was ever completed. As an introduction to the 
whole, he wrote in English the famous Advancement of 
Learning, which he afterward translated into Latin. His 
other important English works are his Essays, his History 
of Henry VH, and his New Atlantis, the last an uncom- 
pleted philosophical romance of the same general type as 
More's Utopia. It is one of the ironies of literary history 
that the Enghsh language which Bacon despised should 
be the medium through which he is most generally known 
to posterity and through which he has a name in litera-' 



THE AGE OF SHy\KESPEARE (1579-1625) 149 

tiire as a great master of prose style. " These modern 
languages," he declared, ''will at one time or the other 
play the bankrupt with books." Yet it is by virtue of his 
English writings, and more especially of his Essays, that 
he is accounted the central figure in the prose literature 
of his age. When we consider this fact, we may under- 
stand that decided limitations must be set to the greatness 
of his purely literary fame. Take him for all in all, he is 
one of the greatest figures in history. In English litera- 
ture, great as he is, he is less great than he has commonly 
been accounted. 

The Essays, as to their matter, might be called a su- 
preme product of purely worldly wisdom. They are close- 
packed with thought, and it is the thought of Bacon's 
a man who has pondered deeply on men and Assays 
things and who has had wide experience of human life ; 
but Bacon's words are the words of prudence and sagacity 
rather than of high principle or of a fine idealism. Little 
of the loftier, more religious, more poetic side of human 
nature is to be found in them, but much of keen insight 
and of shrewd advice. The style fits the substance. It is 
learned, but it is not abstruse or involved. It lacks music, 
but it has directness, compactness, and pith. It is intellec- 
tual and frequently heavy with weight of thought, but it 
is clear and forcible. Sometimes it is simple and almost 
plain ; sometimes it is ornate and figurative ; but even its 
imaginative quality has a curious air of intellectual inge- 
nuity, seems born of reason rather than of emotion. Latin 
quotation is frequent ; it is as though, even here, he hesi- 
tated to commit himself fully to the use of his mother 
tongue. Nowhere is it truer that the style is the man ; 
for Bacon has here expressed himself with all the natu- 
ralness and sincerity of which his nature was capable. 
Everywhere we see the working of his " chemical brain" ; 
everywhere we feel the lack of any passion but the 



I50 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

passion of the intellect. It is thus that he writes *' Of 
Studies " : 

Studies serve for Delight, for Ornament, ai;d for Ability. Their 
Chiefe Use for Delight, is in Privatenesse and Retiring ; For Ornament, 
is in Discourse; And for Ability, is in the Judgement and Disposition of 
Businesse. . . . To spend too much Time in 6'/z/<a?z>j-, is Sloth ; To use 
them too much for Ornament, is Affectation ; To make Judgement 
wholly by their Rules is the Humour of a Scholler. . . . Crafty Men 
Contemne Studies-, Simple Men Admire them; And Wise Men Use 
them. . . . Some Bookes are to be Tasted, Others to be Swallowed, 
and Some Few to be Chewed and Digested ; that is, some Bookes are 
to be read onely in Parts ; Others to be read but not Curiously ; And 
some Few to be read wholly, and with Diligence and Attention. . . . 
Reading maketh a Full Man ; Conference a Ready Man ; And Writing 
an Exact Man. And therefore, If a Man Write little, he had need 
have a Great memory; If he Conferre little, he had need have a 
Present Wit ; And if he Reade little, he had need have much Cun- 
ning, to seeme to know that he doth not. Histories make Men Wise ; 
Poets Witty ; The Mathematicks Subtill ; Naturall Philosophy deepe ; 
Morall Grave ; Logick and Rhetor ick Able to Contend. Abeunt studia 
in Mores. 

In addition to Bacon there is a considerable group of 
minor prose-writers, only the most prominent of whom 
can be here mentioned. Ben Jonson's work in prose has 
already been considered. Sir Walter Raleigh 
falls to be mentioned here chiefly by virtue of 
his History of the World. It is not great history ; it is 
not great literature ; as a whole, it is not written in a great 
style; but it places Raleigh among the notable prose- 
writers of his time because of occasional brief passages 
which display the touch of a master. It is these, together 
with similar happy things in his poetry, which make us 
regret that Raleigh's life could not have been given to 
literature. One of his finest bursts of eloquence occurs 
in the concluding passage of the History. It has not been 
often surpassed by any writer of English prose. 

O eloquent, just, and. mighty Death ! whom none could advise, 
thou hast persuaded ; what none hath dared, thou hast done ; and 



THE AGE OF SHAKESPEARE (1579-1625) 151 

whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the 
world and despised ; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched 
greatness, all the. pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it 
all over with these two narrow words — Hie jacetl 

An interesting type of prose literature is represented 
by Sir Thomas Overbury's Characters, written, in fact, by 
several hands. The type was borrowed from overbur 's 
Greek Hterature, but had a natural association Characters 
with the portrayal of " humours " in the comedy of Ben 
Jonson and his contemporaries. The " Character" is a short 
sketch of a familiar type of life and manners, and is usu- 
ally analytic, didactic, and ethical in purpose. It is said 
that over two hundred publications of the kind were put 
forth during the seventeenth century. They are an in- 
teresting anticipation of some aspects of the modern 
novel. Another typical book is Robert Burton's Anatomy 
of Melancholy. It is typical in its vast learn- Burton's 
ing; for learning was now the chief remain- Anatomy 
ing evidence of the Renaissance influence in literature. 
It is typical also in its serious and exhaustive treatment 
of " melancholy " ; for this was a melancholy generation. 
Men saw the high hopes and splendid enthusiasms of 
the early Renaissance fading away ; learning seemed 
the chief good still left, and even " much study " was " a 
weariness of the flesh." 

We must class among the minor prose-writers that re- 
markable group of men who in 161 1, at the order of 
King James, produced the Authorized Version Authorized 
of the Bible. Nevertheless, they gave shape version 
to the most perfect of all the great monuments of Eng- 
lish prose. At the basis of their success lay their mag- 
nificent model, in its various forms of Hebrew, Greek, and 
Latin. Then they allowed themselves to feel the full in- 
fluence of the splendid English translations of Wyclif, 
Tyndale, and later revisers. Lastly, they lived in an age 



152 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

of stately and musical prose, remote enough from our time 
to have something of archaic flavor, near enough to be in 
all essentials our own modern speech. Tliis wonderful 
book largely created the conditions out of which Puritan- 
ism arose in the next generation ; it entered into the life of 
the EngHsh race, to mold their literature as well as their 
religious thought ; it is still alive after three centuries, more 
powerful in hterary influence than any other book, because 
nearer to the hearts of the people. 




Interior of Swan Theater 

After a sketch made in 1596 



CHAPTER IX 

THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 

We have observed during the reign of James I the de- 
cline of those forces and influences which grew out of the 
Renaissance, and have seen how the temper of the age was 
affected by the growing intellectuality and the DecUneof 
growing melancholy. Men felt that they had Renaissance 
dreamed a glorious dream and had at length seen it '* die 
away, and fade into the light of common day." The 
power and the glory were not yet quite gone; for they 
were still to touch the lighter poetry of the coming gener- 
ation with an afterglow of beauty and to shed their magic 
charm around the young steps of Milton. The Renais- 
sance was still a power to be reckoned with in English 
literature. Nevertheless, its old strength could never be 
quite renewed, and literature had need of something to 
supplant or to supplement its influence. The time was not 
yet fully ripe for an entirely different age with other men 
and other manners. Such new power as came was due 
to the quickening and intensifying of a force which had 
been long in existence — that religious spirit ReUpous 
which had entered into English life with the influence 
Reformation and which had never ceased to exert a strong 
though quiet influence. As we have had already many 
occasions to see, it had been operative during the whole of 
the sixteenth century and the early part of the seventeenth; 
but up to this time it had been subordinate to the Renais- 
sance as a literary force. It had served to exalt beauty 
and to deepen thought and feeling ; it had enriched poetry 
and had restrained the excesses of the drama by a sense 

153 



154 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

of moral law ; but it had never quite ranked as the su- 
preme guiding impulse to literary creation. Now it was 
to take the chief place and to be the dominating influence 
in life and in literature. The Renaissance influence was 
henceforth to sink into the place of secondary importance 
until the time should come for its complete extinction. 

The relation between the Renaissance and the Reforma- 
tion is an interesting one. There had always been more 
„ . or less of opposition between them. The one 

Renaissance ^ ^ 

and Refor- was csscntially intellectual, the other essentially 
mation spiritual ; the one found its delight in the lust 

of the eye and the pride of life, while the other had set its 
affections on the things that are above; the one rejoiced 
in all human powers and dreamed of man's dominion over 
the empire of this world, while the other counted the na- 
tions of the earth but as the small dust of the balance 
and looked for a city which hath foundations. Yet on the 
whole these two great forces had moved in the same 
direction. At first they had worked toward the common 
end of freedom and expansion in thought, the one asserting 
liberty of intelligence, the other asserting liberty of con- 
science. Later and within the field of literature, they had 
attained to a splendid harmony in the best work of Spenser 
and of Shakespeare. During the reign of James I, they 
had drawn apart and had more and more emphasized their 
growing differences. Now, during the Age of Milton, they 
were to stand in an attitude of open mutual hostility. In 
the large nature of Milton himself there was a certain 
reconcilement of their conflicting claims ; but even the 
genius of Milton found it impossible permanently to main- 
tain the double allegiance. This hostihty is accounted for 
by the steady decline in influence and aggressiveness of 
Renaissance forces on the one side, and by the increasing 
narrowness, severity, and intolerance of religion on the 
other. The religious type now coming to its full develop- 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 155 

ment was that which we know as Puritanism ; and the 
very word is a synonym for harshness, austerity, and 
sternness, as it is also for loftiness of spirit, devotion to 
duty, and purity of life. The conflict that arose manifested 
itself in fierce religious controversy, in bloody civil war, 
and in two widely divergent types of literary production. 
We call it the Age of Puritanism, but in reality the age was 
divided between the Puritan and the Cavalier, puritanand 
In many respects it is a very different age from CavaUer 
that which immediately preceded it. The guiding im- 
pulses of literature are still the same ; but they have 
changed their relation to each other and have in a measure 
modified their original character. As a consequence, the 
temper of life and of literature is seriously affected. The 
Age of Shakespeare had been an age of joyous and abun- 
dant life modified by serious religious feeling ; the Age of 
Milton is an age of religious austerity mitigated by a half- 
defiant gayety. It is "merry England" no longer, but 
there are still heard some echoes of the old laughter. 

We have already seen the great drama of the Age of 
Shakespeare verging toward its decline. The Puritan 
period saw its utter decay. It was chiefly a 

^ -^ •' Later Drama 

product of the Renaissance, and naturally lost 
its power with the failure of the old forces. In addition 
to this, however, it had to contend with the active hostility 
of the Puritan temper. The Puritans hated " stage plays," 
and did all they could to discourage this " ungodly " form 
of amusement. A considerable number of dramatists, 
however, still continued their work, and a considerable body 
of plays was produced. The two greatest dramatists of 
this later time are Phihp Massinger and John Ford. 
Massinger still displays the skill of a good Phiup Mas- 
dramatic craftsman and has no small ability in s^"^®'" 
the treatment of character. There is, however, a manifest 
decrease of poetic power and of those flashes of inspiration 



156 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

which characterize so many of the older dramatists, from 
Marlowe to Webster. Massinger's principal work is a 
comedy entitled A New Way to Pay Old Debts. In it 
occurs the famous character of Sir Giles Overreach. 
This comedy is very much superior to any other of Mas- 
singer's plays ; but apart from it, his most effective work 
is in tragedy. Ford is a better poet than Massinger, 
though an inferior playwris^ht. His Broken 

John Ford ^ . 

Heart is typical of his powers and of his defects. 
It has an intensity of tragic power that makes it extremely 
affecting; but it is too horrible, too bloody, and too 
chaotic. His most powerful situations seem forced and 
unnatural. There is a certain morbidness in 'his genius 
that is itself a symptom of decay. Great as are his powers 
of terror and pathos, the drama in his hands 'is visibly 
approaching the end of its splendid career. It is carried 
on still by a number of inferior dramatists ; but at last, in 
1648, the Puritans order the closing of the theatres, and the 
career of the great romantic drama is run. As a whole, it 
is probably unequalled by any other single body of work 
in the world's literature. 

The leading men of this age poured forth a flood of 
prose writing in many kinds. Much of it was inspired by 

the religious and political conflicts of the time. 

Prose-writers i , . i n 

but philosophy and history were also well repre- 
sented. Among such writings we are, of course, chiefly 
concerned with those that have a literary flavor in the sub- 
stance or in the style. Apart from Milton, whose prose 
work will be best considered in connection with his poetry, 
four leading writers will serve to give us an idea of what 
was being accomplished. 

Jeremy Taylor was one of the greatest pulpit orators 
Jeremy ^^*^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^ greatest prosc-writcrs of the 

Taylor Seventeenth century. Saintsbury characterizes 

him as "in almost all ways the chief of Enghsh orators on 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 157 

sacred subjects " ; and Emerson names him " the Shake- 
speare of divines." Taylor was not so much a great theo- 
logian, a great thinker, or a great scholar, as he was a great 
orator and rhetorician. His supreme gift is that of imagi- 
nation, and his style is rich with imagery and picturesque 
description. He has also a poet's delight in beautiful 
things, and answers to our ordinary conception of what is 
meant by a prose poet. Grace, tenderness, persuasiveness, 
are also his. Next to his picturesqueness, his style is 
chiefly remarkable for its music. His faults are those of 
looseness, discursiveness, lack of simpHcity, and lack of 
logic. Such works as his Holy Living, his Holy Dying, 
his Liberty of Prophesying, and his volume of sermons en- 
titled The Golden Grove become literary masterpieces by 
virtue of his inimitable richness and beauty of expression. 
The following is one of Taylor's most famous and most 
characteristic sentences : 

For so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring 
upwards, singing as he rises and hopes to get to heaven, and dimb 
above the clouds ; but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud 
sighings of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and incon- 
stant, descending more at every breath of the tempest, than it could 
recover by the libration and frequent weighing of his wings : till the 
little creature was forced to sit down and pant, and stay till the storm 
was over; and then it made a prosperous flight, and did rise and sing, 
as if it had learned music and motion from an angel, as he passed some- 
times through the air, about his ministries here below. 

Thomas Fuller was also a divine, but one of very 
different type from Taylor. Among other works he wrote 
The Holy State, The Profane State, and a Thomas 
History of the Worthies of England. The latter ^"^^^'^ 
is his best known and most characteristic production. 
Fuller was a man entirely serious and reverent in his main 
purpose ; but he had a unique turn of mind, and his style 
is everywhere characterized by a humorous quaintness. 
He has been thought frivolous, but he is rather odd and 



158 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

nai've. All this gives a decided charm to his style for 
those who are not repelled by his genial eccentricity. How 
natural and incorrigible a habit of the man his quaintness 
was, is well illustrated by the epitaph which he wrote for 
himself, " Here lies Fuller's earth." 

Something of the same quaintness and humor, though 
qualified by a deeper and loftier habit of thought, is to 
Sir Thomas be fouud in Sir Thomas Browne, a Norwich 
Browne physician. His best known and most admired 

works are entitled Religio Medici and Urn Burial. These 
themes do not seem very promising for literature ; but the 
books contain passages which no writer of English prose 
has ever surpassed. Browne was a man of remarkable 
learning, and his style is often heavy with learned word 
and phrase ; but he had, like Jeremy Taylor, that combi- 
nation of poetic imagination and verbal melody of which 
only the greatest masters of prose style are capable. 
Taylor's style soars and sings ; Browne's moves with the 
stately and solemn pomp of a dead march. Not often has 
English prose heard a nobler music than that of this 
famous sentence from his Urn Burial : 

Now since these dead bones have already out-lasted the living ones of 
Methusaleh, and, in a yard under ground and thin walls of clay, out- 
worn all the strong and specious buildings above it ; and quietly rested 
under the drums and tramplings of three conquests : what prince can 
promise such diuturnity unto his relicks, or might not gladly say, 
Sic ego coinponi versus in ossa velijn f 

How different a figure from any of these is the dear old 
fisherman, Izaak Walton. He has all their quaintness, but 
possesses a sweetness and a charm that are 
quite his own. His atmosphere is not the at- 
mosphere of books, but that of the outdoor world of rural 
nature. His Complete Angler is one of the best known 
books of its century. Walton takes the reader with him 
on his fishing excursions, and makes him feel his own love 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 159 

for the quiet beauties of nature and the charm of EngHsh 
rural Ufe. The clear brook, the flowering meadow, the 
wayside sights and sounds, the country inn, all have their 
delight for him ; and the mere catching of fish is only a 
pleasant incident to these higher enjoyments. In his 
quiet pages " the drums and tramplings " of civil war 
seem very far off, and fierce religious controversies are 
easily forgotten. How different was his lot from that of 
John Milton, who was compelled to spend many of his 
best years in the very thick of the political and religious 
conflicts of his age, and whose prose writings constantly 
echo the jarring noises of the great struggle. 

Turning from prose to poetry, our attention is first 
attracted by the little group of singers known as -the 
Cavalier Lyrists. Their poetic inheritance is cavaUer 
from the lyric poetry of the Age of Elizabeth, ^y^^ts 
although the Elizabethan lyric music takes on in their 
verse a gayety, a gallantry, a dashing vivacity, that we 
feel to be new and unique. Their inspiration is mostly 
love for woman and reckless loyalty to their king. They 
are genuine poets, although their poetry is distinctly of 
the lightest and airiest sort. They have no sympathy 
with the Puritan temper, even if their bright spirits are 
sometimes touched by its gloom. Their characteristic 
note is one of careless, brilliant, and audacious gayety. 
They take from Ben Jonson their lyric ease and grace, 
from Donne their fantastic " quips and cranks." 

Thomas Carew is the earliest of the numerous and gal- 
lant band of Cavalier singers who dallied with the beauty 
of love and poetry amid the horrors of civil war. Thomas 
Carew was a courtier, a thoroughgoing Royal- ^^^^"^ 
ist, and at his best an exquisite poet. It is he who makes 
the transition from Elizabethan song to the typically Cav- 
alier poetry. What he is capable of in purely lyric verse, 
a single stanza from one of his best love poems may serve 
to show : 



l6o RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (i 500-1660) 

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, 
When June is past, the fading rose, 
For in your beauty^'s orient deep 
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. 

Sir John Suckling and Richard Lovelace are usually 
coupled together as the most typical of Cavalier poets. 
SuckUngand They wcre alike in their brilliant and careless 
Lovelace livcs, in their worship of love and beauty, in 
their devotion to poetry and to royalty, and in their 
unhappy fates. Suckling was tortured by the Spanish In- 
quisition, and probably committed suicide in exile. Love- 
lace died in poverty and ruin. Both poets live by virtue 
of a few matchless songs. Similar as they are in many 
ways, the poetic tone of each is peculiar. Suckling has 
an air of sprightly impudence clothed in the easy manner 
of a gentleman. One of his best known songs is the 
following : 

Why so pale and wan, fond lover? 

Prithee, why so pale? 
Will, when looking well can't move her, 

Looking ill prevail? 

Prithee, why so pale? 

Why so dull and mute, young sinner? 

Prithee, why so mute? 
Will, when speaking well can't win her, 

Saying nothing doH? 

Prithee, why so mute? 

Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move : 

This cannot take her. 
If of herself she will not love. 

Nothing can make her: 

The devil take her! 

Lovelace has an equal air of gallantry and even more 
carelessness of expression, but he has the greater serious- 
ness and occasionally strikes a really noble note. Nothing 
of his is better than the brief song, Going to the Wars : 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 161 

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind, 

That from the nunnery 
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind 

To war and arms I fly. 

True, a new mistress now I chase, 

The first foe in the field, 
And with a stronger faith embrace 

A sword, a horse, a shield. 

Yet this inconstancy is such 

As you too shall adore, — 
I could not love thee, dear, so much, 

Loved I not honour more. 

It is to Lovelace, too, that we owe the beautiful lines, 

Stone walls do not a prison make, 
Nor iron bars a cage. 

Somewhat apart from these poets — a country parson 
and not a courtier — was Robert Herrick. Nevertheless, 
his verse represents essentially the same spirit Robert 
as theirs — the spirit of more or less conscious derrick 
reaction and protest against the severity and gloom of 
Puritanism. There is no sunnier poetry in English than 
much of Robert Herrick's. There is no lyric poetry of 
the lighter kind dealing with common things in sweeter, 
daintier, and more perfect verse. His range is not wide, 
his flight is not high; but within his limits, he has a 
mastery of the music of words that is almost absolute. 
His acknowledged poetic master is Ben Jonson, for whom 
he displays a kind of quaint idolatry. A vein of coarse- 
ness in his character is shown by his epigrams, which are 
neither clean nor witty. All this, however, he keeps out of 
his purely lyric work. A simple and almost childhke de- 
light in the beauty of nature and of common things is his 
best and most characteristic trait. It is displayed to the 
full in the multitude of charming little poems which are 
grouped under the general title of Hesperides. This 
quality is all the more remarkable in view of the fact 



l62 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

that Herrick was after all a very worldly sort of person 
and rather grumbled at his enforced exile from the world 
in a little country parsonage. He did not take his religious 
duties too seriously ; and yet he was in his own way a 
sincerely if not deeply religious man. This is shown by 
his poems called Noble Numbers^ which deal with religious 
themes in a genuine and poetical way. This may be 
illustrated by a few stanzas from The Litany : 

In the hour of my distress, 
When temptations me oppress, 
And when I my sins confess, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the house doth sigh and weep, 
And the world is drown'd in sleep, 
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep. 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 
***** 
When the passing-bell doth toU, 
And the furies in a shoal 
Come to fright a parting soul, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the Judgment is reveaPd, 
And that open'd which was seal'd ; 
When to Thee I have appeaPd, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

His sensuous and somewhat pagan nature must have been 
rather terrified by the fierce and gloomy reHgion of the 
Puritans. He was incapable either of their harshness or 
of their spiritual exaltation. Still there is, even in his 
lighter and gayer poems, a frequent haunting sense of 
the transitory nature of all worldly love and beauty. In a 
charming poem To the Virgins, he says : 

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may : 

Old Time is still a-flying ; 
And this same flower that smiles to-day, 

To-morrow will be dying. 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 163 

Perhaps no single quotation from Herrick could give us a 
better idea of the man, the poet, and his poetic themes 
than the introduction to the Hesperides : 

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, 

Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers ; 

I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, 

Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. 

I write of Youth, of Love ; — and have access 

By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness ; 

I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece, 

Of balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris. 

I sing of times trans-shifting ; and I write 

How roses first came red, and lilies white. 

I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing 

The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King. 

I write of Hell ; I sing, and ever shall 

Of Heaven, — and hope to have it after all. 

Very different in temper from Herrick are three poets 
of a distinctively religious character. Their work is indeed 
at the opposite extreme from that of the Cavalier ReUgious 
poets. As the latter approach Milton on the ^^^^^ 
lighter and more beautiful side of his poetic genius, so these 
religious poets approach him on the loftier and austerer side. 
While they were not all Puritans in the stricter sense of the 
term, they do as a group represent the prevaiHng Puritan 
temper. 

A country clergyman of opposite type from Herrick was 
George Herbert. His deep piety is manifest in his work as 
in his life, and the man's whole nature seems to George 
have been set in the direction of holy thought and Herbert 
action. There is in him no note of religious conflict, 
except it be the conflict against sin in his own members. 
Indeed, it is the spirit of religious peace for which he 
yearns — a peace which the world of his day was certainly 
not disposed to give. Herbert is a true poet, very even in 
quality, but seldom inspired. The main body of his work 



l64 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

is included in a single volume called The Temple. The 
influence of Donne is everywhere apparent in the fantastic 
conceits with which his poems are filled. This tendency 
appears in his general arrangement of the poems to cor- 
respond with the structure of a church — beginning with 
the porch — and with the succession of church services and 
festivals. It appears in the titles of individual poems — 
such as The Collar and The Pulley — and in separate 
poetic fancies. In spite of this defect, Herbert's poetry is 
attractive ; and his very conceits not seldom have a quaint 
charm of their own. The chief value of his poetry Hes in 
its reflection of the deep religious earnestness of the man and 
of the spiritual and poetic aspiration of a consecrated nature. 
Likewise much given to conceits was Richard Crashaw, 
a poetical disciple of Herbert. He represents the passion- 
Richard ^^^ fcrvor of the religious nature rather than its 

Crashaw intellectual struggles. His temperament natu- 
rally carried him over to Catholicism ; and after being 
expelled from Cambridge in 1644, he went to Italy, and 
died there as canon of Loretto in 1650. As a poet 
Crashaw was very unequal. At his worst, he is very bad 
indeed. At his best — which is all too seldom — he equals 
almost any poet of his age save Milton, and is not unworthy 
to be named even with that great master of poetry. His 
Flaming Heart and Hymn to St. Theresa have passages 
that are sweetly and nobly musical. Of such lines as these, 
no poet need be ashamed : 

O thou undaunted daughter of desire ! 
By thy large draughts of intellectual day. 
By the full kingdom of that final kiss. 

He was a skilful Latin poet, and the reputed author of 
a really poetical conceit on the miracle of Cana which 
appears thus in EngHsh : 

The conscious water saw its God and blushed. 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 165 

Crashaw's poems of divine love form an interesting con- 
trast with a charming earher poem entitled Wishes to his 
Supposed Mistress, 

Whoe'er she be, 

That not impossible she 

That shall command my heart and me. 

All of them taken together illustrate the range of which 
he was capable. 

Henry Vaughan was another disciple of Herbert, even 
closer to his master than was Crashaw. Vaughan has 
been characterized as a religious mystic. As a Henry 
poet, he often falls below Herbert, and as often Vaughan 
rises above him. He feels the mysteries of nature, of the 
human soul, and of the spiritual world, and sometimes 
gives to these in his poetry a finely simple and musical 
expression. When he ceases to be merely meditative and 
becomes really inspired by religious and poetic feeling, he 
rises to the level of the best of English sacred poets. He 
suggests association, too, with the great poets of nature ; 
for he is able to convey a sense of spiritual communion 
with the objects of the natural world. Such lines as these 
are typical of his poetic manner : 

I saw Eternity the other night, 
Like a great ring of pure and endless light, 
All calm, as it was bright. 

Dear, beauteous Death ! the jewel of the just, 
Shining no where, but in the dark ; 
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, 
Could man outlook that mark ! 

Before coming to Milton it is necessary to consider two 
poets who have some natural association with each other, 
but who do not belong specifically either to the Abraham 
group of Cavalier Lyrists or to the group of re- Cowiey 
ligious poets. These are Cowley and Waller. Abraham 
Cowley was in his day regarded as the greatest of English 



l66 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

poets. Seventy years after his death in 1667, Pope asked, 
"Who now reads Cowley?" A few there are who read 
him even yet, for the sake of some really fine poetry, 
and perhaps still more for the sake of his historical posi- 
tion. For Cowley is one of the links between the old 
poetry and the new. He looks backward toward the 
romantic poetry of the Age of Shakespeare and toward 
the metaphysical poetry of Donne; he looks forward to- 
ward the coming age and anticipates in some measure the 
peculiarities of the so-called classical school. Like all the 
other poets thus far mentioned in this period, he was a 
Royalist; but this fact does not count for much in his 
poetry. He sometimes approaches the lyric ease of the 
Cavalier poets ; but he is often heavy, cumbersome, and in- 
volved. In such work as his Pijidariqtie Odes, the style 
is not seldom musical and often free even to excess and 
obscurity ; but on the other hand, he seems to have been 
attracted by the finish and monotony of the classical 
couplet. He writes of love, but, as Samuel Johnson said, 
like " a philosophical rhymer who had only heard of an- 
other sex." He preceded Milton in the production of a 
Biblical epic, the Davideis, but his imagination was not 
adequate to the satisfactory achievement of so great a task. 
Certain things about Cowley are decidedly attractive. One 
of these is his evidently sincere longing for an honorable 
and cultured retirement in the companionship of books 
and of the beauties of nature. This is expressed in a 
poem called The Wish, which he claimed to have wTitten 
at thirteen and which his maturer judgment considered 
worthy of preservation among his works. It is expressed 
in later poems, notably in his On Solitude. It is expressed, 
too, in his prose writings ; for it may be here observed that 
Cowley was one of the most notable essayists of his day, 
although his prose belongs to his later life and will call for 
notice in the next period. Another admirable trait of 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625--1660) 167 

Cowley is a generous disposition to appreciate and openly 
to praise the virtues and abilities of other men. Various 
illustrations might be given, but none better than his poem 
On tJie Death of Mr. Craskaw, which begins : 

Poet and Saint ! to thee alone are given 

The two most sacred names of earth and Heaven, 

The hard and rarest union which can be 

Next that of godhead with humanity. 

The total effect of Cowley's work is to leave the im- 
pression that he was a man of remarkable but ineffectual 
powers. There are few things more pathetic than to be 
almost a great genius. 

Edmund Waller is generally accounted the earliest 
writer to anticipate the classical period in its use of the 
heroic couplet and in its refinement and neatness Edmund 
of poetic form. The heroic couplet is as old as Waiier 
Chaucer ; but in the hands of Waller and his successors, 
it took on such finish, such precision, such regularity, and 
withal such brilliancy, as to make it practically the instru- 
ment of new metrical effects. Less uncertain than Cowley, 
Waller persisted in the new fashion until greater men 
came to reenforce him and to better his example. His 
light is now lost in theirs, but he still retains something of 
the glory that attaches to the harbinger of a new and 
successful movement. In middle life, he was deemed only 
second to Cowley ; after Cowley's death, his fame rose still 
higher; and when he himself died in 1687 at a great age, 
and in the full tide of the new movement, he was for a 
brief time regarded as the greatest English poet. He ap- 
pears to have been somewhat of a time-server ; for he was 
in favor under Charles I, under Cromwell, and again under 
Charles H. He keeps his interest with posterity chiefly 
as the first EngHsh classical poet before the Age of Classi- 
cism. This is his most famous couplet : 

The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, 

Lets in new light through chinks that time hath made. 



1 68 RENAISSANCE A^D REFORMATION (i 500-1 660) 

It remains to consider John Milton, one of the very 
greatest poets of English or any other literature, and the 
man in whose genius are gathered up and intensified all 
the literary powers and capabilities manifested in his age. 
Milton is a typical example of the union of the finest 
, poetic genius with great intellectual ability and 

Genius and with high moral character. The man, the 
thinker, and the poet are alike preeminently 
great. His intellectual depth and force made him the 
chosen literary champion of Puritanism, as Oliver Crom- 
well was its champion in the fields of war and statecraft. 
In pure poetry, also, he gained a strength, solidity, and 
breadth of thought which did not, it is true, constitute his 
poetic genius, but which gave a firm foundation upon 
which that genius might rest. His intellectual powers, 
moreover, were trained by the best educational discipline 
of his age and by his own profound and long-continued 
study. He was one of the most learned poets of his own 
or of any other time. His religious nature and his interest 
in great moral questions had also an incalculable influence 
upon his work. No poetry is loftier, purer, more serious, 
than his. No prose writing oftener displays the nobility 
of a lofty spirit or enthusiasm for a great cause. Milton 
is austere, harsh, even bigoted in controversy; but no one 
can doubt the sincerity of his convictions or his whole- 
souled fidelity to what he conceived as duty. He had 
many of the faults, but he had also the noblest virtues, 
of the Puritan. His intellectual and moral qualities con- 
cern us here chiefly as they are related to his poetic 
genius. What that genius itself w^as able to accomplish, 
we shall have occasion to see. 

We may here observe that it made him not only the 
Milton and greatest, but in many ways the most representa- 
hisAge ^-jyg^ Hterary figure of his age. There was much 

in him of the Elizabethan past. His genius was most 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 169 

nearly akin to that of Spenser — " sage and serious Spen- 
ser " — whom he loved and admired. He felt the influence 
also of Ben Jonson, but fortunately escaped that of Donne. 
To a certain extent he was in sympathy with the growing 
classicism of the age — at least in its general spirit — for 
he was a superb poetic artist, and his work helped to culti- 
vate the ever increasing appreciation for perfect literary 
form. He was a representative prose-writer, and his style 
has many qualities in com.mon with that of Jeremy Taylor, 
Sir Thomas Browne, and other leading prose-writers of his 
day. He had a gift of lyric music as pure and fine as 
that of any Cavalier poet, though it was dedicated to a 
higher service. As a religious poet, he is not only the 
greatest in his age but the greatest in the literature. 
What other poets could do well, he could in his own way 
do better ; and if we had only Milton left to us, we should 
be able to make reasonable conjecture as to all that was 
accomplished in literature in his age. When all is said, 
however, Milton is one of the most individual of poets. 
His work has a quality which that of no other man of his 
time possesses. It is the product of a larger, a loftier, 
a more gifted, a more consecrated, nature — it is Miltonic. 
Milton was born in London in 1608. His home at- 
mosphere was one of culture and refinement as well 
as of genuine piety. That his father was a musical 
composer and that Milton was trained in music, doubt- 
less meant much to the development of that poetic 
genius which was to unlock so many harmonies of Enghsh 
speech. Besides his home training, he received Minon's 
a good prehminary education at St. Paul's Early Life 
School in London. From here he went to Christ's College, 
Cambridge, where his beautiful face, his gentle manners, 
and his delicate spirit made him known as *' the Lady of 
Christ's." He had already chosen his career, and in the 
years immediately following his departure from the Uni- 



170 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

versity, he deliberately set himself to the task of train- 
ing himself as a poet. Amid the quiet woods of Horton, 
he gave himself up to study and to meditation, to commun- 
ion with nature and fellowship with the great dead, in 
the faith " that he who would not be frustrate of his hope 
to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself 
to be a true poem ; that is, a composition and pattern of 
the best and honourablest things ; not presuming to sing 
high praises of heroic men, or famous cities, unless he 
have in himself the experience and the practice of all that 
which is praiseworthy." Here his poetical career began. 
From this point we can probably consider Milton to best 
advantage by observing and comparing the three distinct 
periods of his Hterary Hfe. These mark three strongly con- 
trasted phases of his character, his genius, and his work. 

Milton's early poetic period covers some ten years of 
poetic production, extending from about his twentieth to 
about his thirtieth year. His first notable poem, the Hymn 
Early Poetic ^^ ^^^ Nativity, was written in his twenty-first 
Period year, in 1629, while he was still at Cambridge. 

It strikes the high and serious note that was to character- 
ize all his poetry. This period also includes a number of 
sonnets, one of the finest being written in 1631 and en- 
titled On his being arrived at the Age of Twenty-three. 
It is like a consecration and a pledge that his high poetic 
gifts shall be used 

As ever in my great task-master's eye. 

The period is made illustrious, however, by four great 
masterpieces, each well-nigh perfect in its kind. 

U Allegro and // Penseroso are companion poems, the 

one dealing with the cheerful man, the other with the 

melancholy or meditative man. Alike in formal 

L' Uegroand pjg^j^ ^-j^gy ^^^ finely Contrasted in tone and 

II Penseroso . ^ ^ „ , r 1 1 

sentiment. One follows the course of the day 
from sunrise until evening, painting its rural sights and 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 171 

sounds. The other watches out the night with the 
lonely and pensive scholar, setting noble thoughts to 
noble music. They are typical of the two opposed yet 
harmonious sides of Milton's nature — the one finding joy 
in all the beauty and sweetness of the world, the other 
seeking an even higher delight in the glory of lofty 
thought and spiritual contemplation. Milton knew and 
experienced the truth that the basis of the poetic nature 
is sensuousness and passion ; he illustrates also the greater 
truth that the highest heavens of poetry are open only to 
the noble mind and the exalted spirit. All of Milton, at 
least in germ, lies in these two matchless poems of his 
youth. 

A similar mingling of qualities is to be found in Comus^ 
a masque or lyrical drama. The Lady who is the heroine 
of the piece is lost at nisrht in the forest and 

^ ^ Comus 

falls in with Comus — god of revelry and son 
of Circe the enchantress — and his bestial crew. He en- 
deavors, by the power of his enchantments, to transform 
her also into the likeness of a beast, but is not able to ex- 
ercise his debasing power upon her stainless purity. This 
work is thought by some critics to be Milton's masterpiece. 
It is certainly one of the most delicately beautiful poems 
in the language, weaving together the charms of blank 
verse, of exquisite lyric measures, of suggestive imagery, 
and of large poetic conception. With all this is matched 
the noblest intellectual and moral spirit. The poem is a 
superb exaltation of virtue. 

Lycidas is one of the few supremely great elegies. It 
is in form a pastoral poem, in which one shepherd mourns 
the death of another. Behind this familiar and conven- 
tional classic disguise, Milton laments the death of Edward 
King, a college friend. The poem is beautiful 
simply as a pastoral, but this does not constitute ^" ^^ 
its real greatness. Neither does it lay hold of us chiefly 



172 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (i 500-1660) 

as an expression of intense personal grief ; for Milton does 
not seem to have been very intimate with King or to have 
felt any deep sense of personal loss. King was something 
of a poet and also a student for the ministry ; and these 
facts gave Milton occasion to rebuke the degeneracy of 
poetry and especially of the clergy in his age. The poets 
are too Hght and frivolous ; they love too well merely 

To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 

Or with the tangles of Neeera's hair. 

The shepherds of the people are "blind mouths," ignorant 
and greedy; and the poet warns them to beware of the 
sword of vengeance. It is this high and stern rebuke that 
makes the poem unique, that intensifies its expression at 
times to a white heat of passion. Here for the first time 
in Milton's poetry is the austere tone of the Puritan, a tone 
severe yet noble, harsh yet truly poetical. 

In most of the poetry of this earher period, Milton is 
akin to the Elizabethan age and the spirit of the Renais- 
sance, and is a pure poet. He has a true delight in 
beauty ; he shows a wonderful sweetness and variety in 
his music; he joys in the pleasures of sense, while he is 
Quauty of ^^ ^^^ Same time interested in higher concerns ; 
EarUerPoetry he loves and portrays nature, but still after the 
somewhat artificial manner of the Elizabethans ; he shows 
in Comus a romantic tendency, which is still further illus- 
trated by the purpose that he long cherished of writing a 
poem on the basis of the Arthurian legends ; he even 
attempts, in Comus, something in dramatic form, though 
dramatic creation was essentially foreign to his genius. 
Even in his earlier poetry, however, Milton adds some- 
thing to these Elizabethan and Renaissance characteristics. 
His religious feeling is manifest in the Hymn on the 
Nativity, in the sonnets, in paraphrases of the Psalms, 
and in many of the minor poems. His learning is mani- 
fest everywhere, particularly in his Latin poetry, much of 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 173 

which was written while he was still at Cambridge. In 
LycidaSy as we have seen, there is a note of seriousness 
and pathos of a new kind. All of these characteristics, 
however, are as yet subordinated to his poetical instinct. 
Soon he is to be called away from poetry to enter the 
arena of civil and religious conflict. 

For about twenty years Milton forsook the ways of 
poetry and became one of the important figures in a great 
political and religious movement. A few sonnets make 
almost the whole extent of his poetical production, though 
it is certain that he did not cease to meditate on his great 
poetic designs. The prose writings which made 
the principal literary occupation of these years ^econd, or 
were mainly controversial, and his controversies 
were for the most part either religious or political. Nearly 
all of them were directly associated with the party conflicts 
of the time. In large part, his subject-matter was of 
interest only to his own age, and possessed but slight lit- 
erary interest even from that point of view. Occasionally, 
however, Milton rises to the height of some great argu- 
ment in a way that gives his prose something of the no- 
bility and impressiveness of his great poetry. Milton's 
prose style has many and serious limitations. It is not 
humorous, it is not even genial ; for Milton, in the heat of 
intellectual battle, was a thoroughgoing Puritan, though 
he of course represented Puritanism on its loftiest and 
most beautiful side. It is comparatively unobservant of 
the great laws of prose, although Milton is in poetry one 
of the finest of literary artists. Learned diction, periodic 
structure, long and involved sentences, all unite to make it 
cumbersome and difficult. Milton was not unaware of his 
own limitations in the field of prose controversy. He 
says : " I should not choose this manner of writing, 
wherein knowing myself inferior to myself, led by the 
genial power of nature to another task, I have the use, as 



1/4 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

I may account, but of my left hand." Yet the great poet 
could hardly help, now and again, pouring out into his prose 
sentences some of the splendid music of his verse ; and 
when his passion for liberty, for truth, for duty, finds fit- 
ting utterance, few writers of English prose are capable 
of such magnificent harmonies of language. Among his 
noblest prose works, both for matter and style, are his Areo- 
pagitica, a speech on the liberty of the press, and his 
Defense of the English People, a justification of the execu- 
tion of Charles I. In these and other writings, we may 
study Milton's relation to his age and also the relation of 
this middle period of his life to the rest of his career. His 
learning and his intellectual power here found opportunity 
to manifest themselves, and his great moral earnestness 
was also called into action. He spoke noble and great 
words for literature and for the freedom of human thought, 
but the greatest of all his powers was allowed to slumber 
or at least to brood in silence. In poetry, Milton is 
the great artist ; in his prose, he forgets his art in advocat- 
ing his cause, and it is only in those fortunate moments 
when some great thought burns within him that he rises 
to his heights of eloquence. Yet the period was not fruit- 
less. In it we see the man strongly revealed, and 
realize how great he was even in spite of such limitations. 
We see him, too, undergoing a transformation. Not alto- 
gether a fortunate one for poetry, it must be confessed ; 
for the ethereal music of Comtis is to be heard no more, and 
the stern note of Lycidas has become stronger and deeper. 
Yet there is to be compensation ; for the later poetry is to 
have a depth, a solemnity, a grandeur, a sublimity, which 
the earlier work promised, indeed, but did not quite pos- 
sess. 

Milton's public career came to an end with the Restora- 
tion of Charles II, in 1660. He lived, however, for four- 
teen years after that, " blind, old, and lonely," withdrawn 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) 175 

from public notice and devoted again to the great tasks of 
poetry. The change, though in many ways sorrowful for 
him, was a happy one for literature. The poetry Later Poetic 
of this period includes his great epic, Paradise Period 
Lost, its companion poem. Paradise Regained, and his 
noble drama, Samson Agonistes. It is in marked contrast 
with the poetry of his early Hfe. As we have seen, that 
earlier poetry was joyous, bright, full of delight in beauty, 
though full of earnestness and power — in a word, Eliza- 
bethan. The later poetry is serious, sombre, full of deep 
moral earnestness, beautiful with the beauty of profound 
thought and of lofty spiritual conception — in a word, 
Puritan. The music of the one was light, graceful, 
varied ; that of the other is the music of deep and solemn 
organ tones reverberating among the arches of a vast 
cathedral. The one is of value as pure poetry ; the other, 
because it adds to poetry the value of philosophical 
thought and religious emotion. The one is full of the spirit 
of the Renaissance ; the other is typical of the strong, 
stern, gloomy English nature, which is yet able to clothe 
its deep seriousness of thought and feeling in the garment 
of immortal beauty. With Milton's later verse, the influ- 
ence of the Renaissance dies away as a controlling force 
in English literature. The influence of the Reformation, 
transformed into the extreme religious type of Puritanism, 
here reaches its culmination. The reign of Puritanism, 
however, is to be short ; and with Milton, it speaks its 
greatest, if not quite its latest, word. 

Pai'adise Lost is generally esteemed to be Milton's 
master poetic work, contesting the palm with Dante's 
Divina Commedia for the honor of being 
named as the greatest epic of the modern world. ^^^^^^^ ^°^* 
It deals professedly with the fall of our first parents and 
their expulsion from the Garden of Eden; but, in fact, its 
scheme is much vaster than that. We have the fall of 



iy6 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

Lucifer and the rebel angels from Heaven and their 
erection of a rival kingdom in Hell ; the creation of the 
universe and of man ; the temptation and fall of Adam 
and Eve ; the entrance into the world of sin and death ; 
the prophetic vision of human history and of the promised 
redemption of mankind. All Milton's conceptions are in 
harmony with this tremendous plan, and he succeeds in 
giving to it the interest of a mighty cosmic drama. He is 
less vivid and concrete than Dante, but he does not lose 
himself in vagueness. Above all he possesses in a 
supreme degree the power of suggesting by his imagery 
the inconceivable immensity and awful mystery of his 
sublime visions. The form of the poem fitly matches its 
great argument. Milton's blank verse is probably the 
most unique in the language and hardly less than the most 
musical and sonorous. It is modulated to something of 
his old-time sweetness in the descriptions of Eden, or 
when the legions of Hell move over the burning plains 

In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 

Of flutes and soft recorders. 
Again, it is like 

Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds, 

or rings with the noise of 

A shout that tore HelPs concave, and beyond 
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old night. 

Most characteristic of all, it rolls and swells and reverber- 
ates like the pealing of great organ music, as in the magnif- 
icent invocation to light that opens the third book of the 
poem. This same passage may illustrate Milton's masterly 
skill in the building of the poetic paragraph. It possesses 
a symmetry and completeness of its own that make it like 
a perfect piece of music. The harmonies of rhyme linked 
together into a perfect stanza could not create a whole 
more finished and more self-contained. Milton knew and 
used all the capacities of his great instrument, and added 



THE AGE OF MILTON (1625-1660) \jy 

to the sublimity of his divine conceptions all the power 
that the music of speech can yield. 

Paradise Regained completes the scheme of Paradise 
Lost. It tells of the redemption foretold in Eden and 
foreseen in the prophetic description of the Paradise 
Archangel Michael. The theme of the poem is Regained 
really the Temptation of Christ and his victory over Satan. 
Adam's sin had 

Brought death into the world, and all our woe. 
In the later poem, Milton sings 

Recover'd Paradise to all mankind, 
By one man's firm obedience fully try'd 
Through all temptation, and the tempter foil'd. 

The brief gospel narrative of the Temptation is expanded 
into four books of splendid poetry. The work consists 
mostly of dialogue, and is therefore much inferior to 
Paradise Lost in the interest of action and character. It 
is inferior, too, in music and in richness of language. Its 
power is more restrained, but the power is there. Some 
good judges of poetry seem even to have preferred it to 
Paradise Lost^ but this has not been the general esti- 
mate. 

Samson Agonistes, Milton's last great work, is a drama. 
His model was not the drama of Shakespeare, but that of 
the Greeks. The story is that of Samson, " blind gamson 
among enemies," seeking his own death in the Agonistes 
destruction of the PhiHstine lords. The tragedy is an im- 
pressive one, and is all the more pathetic because Samson 
is fitly typical of Milton himself, great in his blindness and 
in the shadow of approaching death. He, too, had fallen 
upon evil days ; he, too, was lonely and dishonored amid 
the triumph of his foes. The bitterness of his soul speaks 
out in his last great poem. All the old sweetness has gone 
out of his music, all the old richness has disappeared from 
his style ; but the majesty, the subUmity, the godlike power, 



1/8 RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION (1500-1660) 

are still there. It is the noble close of one of the noblest 
poetic careers in the history of the English literature. 

Milton is undoubtedly one of the very greatest poets of 
England and of the world. He was a man of truly poeti- 
cal nature ; but he was also possessed of great intellectual 
power and of great moral character. These the spirit of 
Milton's his age was able to use to the detriment of his 
Greatness poetic work ; but they nevertheless contributed 
in the end to exalt his poetic fame. He was a revealer of 
the mingled strength and beauty, sternness and tenderness, 
gloom and glory, of the EngHsh race. He was a poet 
speaking for the deep rehgious feehng of mankind. We 
may safely reject the theory of Taine that he was a great 
poet in spite of the fact that he was a Puritan, and hold 
rather with Green that he was a great poet because he 
was a Puritan. This may be to the Jews a stumbling-block, 
to the Greeks fooHshness, and to the French a riddle ; but 
if so, it is the riddle of all English poetry — the riddle of 
Samson, " out of the strong came forth sweetness." Neither 
EngHshmen nor Puritans may strike the world as very 
poetical ; but after all, the English race has produced the 
world's greatest poetry, not in spite of the fact that it was 
English, but because it was English. 




Christs College, Cambridge 




'^fy. 



BOOK IV 

CLASSICISM {1660-1786) 
CHAPTER X 

THE AGE OF DRYDEN (i 660-1 700) 

There came a day when the intellectual enthusiasm of 
the Renaissance and the spiritual fervor of the Reforma- 
tion had spent their force. Men srrew tired 

^ ° Decline of 

of the "unchartered freedom" of poetic feeling oiderim- 
and imagination, grew tired also of that religious ^" ^^^ 
intensity which made the Puritan desire to worship God in 
his own way and made him desire also that all other men 
should worship God in the same way. There came, natu- 
rally enough, a reaction which was destined to change for a 
time the whole face of hterature. So far, the religious 
spirit had been a great literary impulse from the very be- 
ginning of English literature. The spirit of romance had 
been powerful ever since the Norman Conquest, though 
greatly modified by the Renaissance. Now, men desired 
to be neither religious nor romantic. If this had been all, 
the attitude would have been merely a negative one, and 
therefore incapable of producing any great literary results. 
The movement, however, had a positive side as well, and 
thus became genuinely fruitful. 

The new impulse which now became operative was what 
we ordinarily call Classicism. Men were no longer genu- 
inely inspired by the ancient writers, as in the Rise of 
days of the Renaissance. They sought to follow Classicism 
them in formal fashion, and they succeeded in following 
them only afar off. It has been truly said that the clas- 

179 



l80 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

sical movement was more Latin than Greek, and more 
French than Latin. On the face of it, it is more dis- 
tinctly foreign than any other movement that has greatly 
affected English literature. Looking deeper, we shall see 
that what power it had was due to the fact that it found 
something already in the English nature which was in har- 
mony with its spirit. The early Elizabethan dramatists 
had endeavored to conform English drama to Senecan 
models, but had found themselves swept away by the great 
tide of romanticism. Ben Jonson had stood for classic 
"art" as opposed to Shakespeare's wild "nature," but had 
found most of his contemporaries on Shakespeare's side. 
The followers of Jonson had carried on the classic tradition, 
but had not made much headway. Milton had cultivated 
a classic refinement of style, but had found this phase of 
his genius overshadowed by greater elements. Now, at 
last, in the exhaustion of powers greater in themselves and 
more consonant with the English character, the day of the 
classicist had come, and whatever of classic instinct was 
latent in the English nature was to have its opportunity. 
The prevailing French influence strengthened and encour- 
aged this tendency, but did not create it. What seems at 
first sight like a movement entirely from without, is seen 
to be for the most part an attempt on the part of the Eng- 
lish race to develop powers hitherto repressed and to try 
its strength in ways hitherto barred. That this is really 
the weaker side of the racial character accounts for the 
comparative inferiority of the literature of the classical 
period ; that the strongest instincts of the race led it in 
other directions, accounts for the powerful and complete 
reaction which finally came. 

What is Classicism } That is a difficult question to 
Meaning of auswer briefly; for the term is used in many 
Classicism ways and really means many things. As ap- 
plied to the literature under consideration, Classicism is 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (1660-1700) 181 

essentially literary conformity. Classicists belong to the 
established church of literature and are intolerant of lit- 
erary heresy. Its reverence for authority, its finish of 
form, its repression of passion and imagination, its exalta- / 
tion of reason, its regularity and restraint, its essentially / 
prosaic temper — these are some of the characteristics of ' 
Classicism. During the three generations of its dominance. 
Classicism set up three great literary autocrats — John 
Dryden, Alexander Pope, and Samuel Johnson. The litj- 
erary autocrat is of the essence of the classical spirit. 
There are no such autocrats elsewhere in the literature. 
Ben Jonson approaches nearest to the type ; and as we 
have just noted, Ben Jonson was a prophet of Classicism. 
On the rehgious side, it might appear as though the 
tendency of the age was a revolt against too much restraint 
rather than a reaction against too much free- Religion and 
dom. In a sense it was so ; but the opposition Politics 
to Puritanism was a revolt against its severity, its harsh- 
ness, its intolerance, its rigid standards of personal con- 
duct, rather than against its rehgious authority. Religious 
authority had the unquestioned, if sometimes too nominal, 
assent of the age. Puritanism, indeed, in spite of its own 
tyrannies, really represented freedom of conscience more 
than did any other phase of religious thought in the seven- 
teenth century. Men turned from Puritanism to accept 
the easy-going and conventional authority of the Estab- 
lished Church. They accepted that as they accepted the 
same sort of authority in literature. Puritanism was non- 
conformity ; and the age was returning to the established 
order of things both in literature and in religion. Much 
the same is true in pohtics. After Cromwell and the Com- 
monwealth, after an interval of republicanism tempered by 
tyranny, the age returned to the comfortable doctrine of 
the divine right of kings. When this in its turn became 
too oppressive, they dethroned James II, but only to set 



182 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

up in his place a more masterful, though more sensible, 
king. The sum of the whole matter is this — that the age 
desired the rule of recognized and estabHshed, though not 
too harsh and unreasonable, authority in church, in state, 
and in Hterature. It was this generally prevailing spirit 
that gave Classicism so easy a victory and made it so 
widely effective. 

The literary results of Classicism are by no means in- 
significant. The Restoration drama, the poetry of Dryden 
Results of and Pope, the prose of Swift, Addison, Steele, 
Classicism ^^^ Dcfoc, are among its most characteristic 
products. The movement began in the Age of Dryden, 
and reached its culmination in the Age of Pope ; but it 
had so much of genuine vitality that its influence remained 
powerful through still another generation. The names of 
Goldsmith and Samuel Johnson will serve to show that the 
classical spirit was a force to be reckoned with until as late 
as the fourth quarter of the eighteenth century. The period 
falls naturally into three divisions, corresponding with the 
literary lives of Dryden, Pope, and Johnson. It is the lit- 
erature of the Age of Dryden that we are first to consider. 

We have seen that Classicism had begun to develop in 
Hterature long before the date of the Restoration. It is 
Survival of quitc as apparent that Puritanism did not sud- 
Puritanism dculy ccasc whcu the Restoration had come. 
The two periods overlap each other ; and although there 
was a marked change in English life with the year 1660, 
literature still continued to bear some impress of Puritan 
influences and ideals. Most noteworthy of all is the case 
of Milton, who lived and wrote for fourteen years after the 
return of Charles II. The typical representative, however, 
of the continuance of Puritan sentiment into the very heart 
of the Restoration Period is John Bunyan. Dif- 

John Bunyan , r . , . / . 

ferent as they were, therefore, in life, m tem- 
perament, and in genius, it is fitting that Milton and 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (1660-1700) 183 

Bunyan should be closely associated with each other in 
Hterary history. The one was the great poet of Puritan- 
ism ; the other was like the voice of one crying in the 
spiritual wilderness of a degenerate age. 

Bunyan was some twenty years younger than Milton, 
and was over thirty at the date of the Restoration. He 
had therefore grown to manhood under the Puritan rule. 
His first literary work of importance, however, his Grace 
Aboimdmg to the Chief of Sinners, was not produced until 
1666; and the first part of his masterpiece, The Pilgrim's 
Progress, appeared some twelve years later. Bunyan's 
literary career, therefore, belongs distinctly to the Restora- 
tion Period, although his character and genius were shaped 
under Puritan auspices and by Puritan ideals. Bunyan's 
Classicism had little or no influence upon him, Training 
nor did he learn his marvelous style from French models. 
His school of literary art was the English Bible, that great 
Authorized Version which Puritanism had learned by heart. 
His style, therefore, is more akin to the vigorous and 
imaginative prose of the previous generation than to the 
more finished, more intellectual, more modern prose of his 
immediate contemporaries. 

Still another reason for the unique character of Bun- 
yan's work lies in the fact that he was quite apart from 
the main literary currents of his day. He was Bunyan's 
the son of a poor country tinker, and followed ^^^® 
his father's somewhat vagabond trade. The schooling that 
fell to his portion was very slight ; and his literary path 
was lighted only by the Bible and by his own remarkable 
genius. His early life seemed to him a very sinful one, 
though his sins would appear to have been created or at 
least greatly magnified by his Puritan temper and by his 
vivid imagination. At any rate, he underwent a spiritual 
struggle in which the terrors of sin and the fear of dam- 
nation hung over his soul like a dark and awful cloud. 



1 84 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

At last he felt that the grace of God had been extended to 
him and that his sins had been pardoned. He became a 
preacher and reHgious writer ; and his warnings of sin and 
of God's wrath are mingled with an exalted delight in the 
divine mercy and in the heavenly beauty of a Christlike 
life. Arrested for illegal preaching, he suffered imprison- 
ment for twelve years. Lying in Bedford jail, he had 
those marvelous visions which grew into his great allegory, 
The Pilgrim s Progress. 

By some such process, Bunyan's genius grew into con- 
sciousness of itself. He was a born literary artist. Few 
Bunyan's ^len havc had a more vivid imagination. The 
Genius creaturcs of his fancy seemed almost more real 

to him than the beings of the actual world. He had, too, 
the power of graphic portrayal, whereby his ideal, visions 
were embodied and conveyed in language. He was the 
master of a style unsurpassed for simplicity, directness, 
force, vividness, and homely beaut}^ Humble and un- 
learned as he was, he stands as the greatest writer of 
English prose in his generation. Other men were more 
refined, more scholarly, more elegant; but none is his 
equal for naturalness, earnestness, sincerity, and power. 
Moreover, his are the only prose works of his age outside 
of the drama which are genuine works of literary art, true 
products of creative imagination. 

Bunyan's unquestioned masterpiece is The Pilgrim's 
Progress. It is an allegory of the soul's journey from this 
Pilgrim's sinful world to the safety and joy of the heavenly 
Progress kingdom. It is the greatest prose allegory of 
English literature and perhaps of the world. No higher 
praise could be given it than to say that it deserves to 
stand beside Spenser's great poetic allegory. The Faerie 
Qiieene. Like that, it has the added attraction of a fasci- 
nating story, but its appeal has been even broader. Spen- 
ser is "the poet's poet"; Bunyan appeals to common 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (1660-1700) 185 

men and women, old and young, learned and unlearned, 
literary and unliterary. Perhaps no other book except the 
Bible has been more widely spread or more generally 
known. In its vivid pictures, we may see the reflection of 
Bunyan's own religious experiences and of his attitude 
toward his age. Christian fleeing from the City of De- 
struction might well seem a type of Bunyan himself, en- 
deavoring to escape from the licentiousness, the frivolity, 
and the wicked folly of his time. In the immortal picture 
of Vanity Fair, the age might have seen its face as in a 
mirror. Christian's imprisonment in the Doubting Castle 
of Giant Despair reminds us of his own weary confinement. 
Indeed, one may well conceive that the production of 
such a book needed the conjunction of just such a man 
and just such an age. 

Bunyan wrote another great allegory. The Holy War^ 
but it does not equal The Pilgrim's Progress. Perhaps the 
work which stands nearest to his masterpiece is Bunyan's 
his Life and Death of Mr. B adman. The one ^^"°^ w^''^^ 
is a great romance ; the other is a brief but powerful tran- 
script from real life. It is interesting, not only for its 
dramatic effectiveness, but also as containing many of the 
features that were later to constitute the modern novel. 
Both in this work and in The Pilgrim's Progress^ Bunyan 
shows his power to conceive lifelike characters, to invent 
striking incidents, to create impressive scenes, to construct 
a well-ordered plot. Mr. Badman is inferior in the latter 
respect ; but if the distinctive features of the two books 
could have been united, we should have had something 
very like a great novel. 

John Dryden was the typical literary figure of his time. 
Practically all that the Age of the Restoration was may 
be seen or guessed in him. He represents its 
Classicism — its desire for finished, restrained, 
orderly expression. He represents its moral — or rather 



\i 



l86 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

its immoral — temper, while at the same time he repre- 
sents what it retained of true and manly religious spirit. 
Its gayety, its brilliance, its wit, together with its more 
solid intellectual qualities, are to be found in him. The 
literature of the age may be divided into miscellaneous 
prose, poetry, and drama; and in each of these depart- 
ments, Dryden is the central figure. Nothing is more 
impressive than the range of his literary work, unless it 
be its excellence in every kind. 

Dryden's literary career began with the publication, in 
1659, of his Heroic Stanzas, written on the death of Oliver 
Early Poetry Cromwell. Only the next year, he wrote his 
and Prose Asti'CBa Redux, or Justice Returned, welcoming 
the Restoration of Charles II. This desertion of the Puri- 
tan cause is not really so bad as it seems. Dryden had 
been a Puritan chiefly through family associations and 
traditions; his enthusiasm for the Puritan cause had never 
been very fervid ; and in becoming a Royalist, he was 
probably following the natural tendency of his own tem- 
perament. In 1667 he pubHshed his first long poem. 
Annus Mirabilis, or the Wonderful Year, commemorating 
the sea victories over the Dutch and the great fire of 
London in 1666. At the same time, he was making his 
beginnings in prose, by means of critical prefaces to his 
dramas, and of his Essay on the Historical Poem, intro- 
ductory to the Annus Mirabilis. His most famous critical 
work, the Essay of Dramatic Poesy, was published sepa- 
rately in 1667. 

Dryden had already written several dramas ; and about 
this time, he ceased from poetry and turned his energies 
for a time entirely to dramatic writing. It was in con- 
nection with the stage that he achieved the successes that 
Dramatic firmly established his reputation. Drama was 
Work i-j^g favorite literary form of the Restoration. 

The demand for plays was very great ; and Dryden, 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (1660-1700) 187 

as a professional man of letters rather than a strongly 
individual genius, was tempted to seek that form of liter- 
ary expression which was most largely and immediately 
profitable. Up to 1681 he had written some twenty 
dramas. His best abilities did not lie in this direction ; 
but his perfection of literary talent gave him a large 
measure of success, and his strong personality made him 
a recognized leader. He wrote so-called heroic plays, 
tragedies, comedies, and tragi-comedies. Among his best- 
known dramas are The Maiden Queetiy Tyrannic Love^ 
All for Love, and The Spanish Friar. Dryden's dramatic 
faults are extravagance and bombast in the style, unnatu- 
ralness in the characters, and lack of dramatic effective- 
ness in the plots. Such defects would seem almost fatal 
to good drama ; but Dryden counterbalanced them in some 
degree by his literary adroitness and by his genuine poetic 
talent. It is curious to note that Dryden wrote many of 
his plays in the favorite heroic couplet. He led the 
fashion in this respect, and was the leader also in the 
return to blank verse. 

In 1 68 1 Dryden forsook the drama and did not return 
to it until late in his life. He was now fifty years of age 
and had not yet produced a single work that can be called 
a great masterpiece. He had, however, attained to a fine 
mastery of all the arts of literary expression, and was now. 
ready for the great works of his life. In 1681 he began 
the most wonderful series of political verse satires in the 
EngHsh language, by the publication of Absalom 
and Achitophel. In the next year he produced 
The Medal and Mac Flecknoe. These works place Dry- 
den among the very first of English satirists. His special 
gift, a gift in which he has never been excelled, is that of 
drawing a satirical portrait. His sketches in this kind 
are all the more effective because of Dryden's disposi- 
tion to do justice to any good qualities which he may 



l88 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

recognize in his victim. Following the satires, he turned 
his attention to religious subjects, and wrote, in 1682, his 
Religious Religio Laid, or A Layman s Faith, setting 
Poetry forth his adherence to the Church of Eng- 

land. Only five years later, after the accession of James 
II, who was a Roman Catholic, Dryden celebrated his 
own conversion to Catholicism by writing The LLind and 
the Panther, a remarkable allegorical poem, in which the 
hind represents the Roman Catholic Church and the pan- 
ther the Church of England. In this change of religion, 
Dryden can not wholly escape the charge of self-interest ; 
but on the other hand, there is little doubt that it was in 
harmony with his own character and convictions. It is 
to be noted to his credit that upon the accession of the 
Protestant William of Orange in 1688, he remained stead- 
fastly true to his new faith. 

By the Revolution of 1688, through which James II was 
driven into exile and William and Mary were seated on 
Dryden's the English throne, Dryden lost his positions as 
Old Age poet-laureate and historiographer-royal, together 
with all other aid and countenance from the government. 
This reverse of fortune compelled him in his later years 
to the greatest activity of his life. He engaged 
first in translation from the classics, his chief 
work in this kind being a translation of all of Virgil. In 
addition to this, he translated from Theocritus, Lucretius, 
Horace, Homer, Persius, Juvenal, Ovid, and Plutarch. 
What was more important, he continued his noble work in 
lyric poetry, begun before the Revolution. His most not- 
able lyrics are his Elegy on Anne Killigrew, his 
first Song for St. Cecilia s Day, and his Alex- 
ander's Feast, or second song for St. Cecilia's Day. 
Between 1690 and 1694 he wrote five more 
Fables plays, thus closing his dramatic labors. In 1698 

he began his Fables, and in March, 1700, published Fables^ 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (i 660-1 700) 189 

Ancient and Modern, tra7islated into Verse, from Homer, 
Ovid, Boccace, and Chaucer, with Original Poems by Mr. 
Dryde7i. In a fine preface he gives us his last piece of 
literary criticism. The Fables was Dryden's last book ; 
for on the ist of May, 1700, just as he was approach- 
ing the limit of his threescore years and ten, he died in 
London. He was given a splendid public funeral, and was 
buried in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey. 

Dryden was a man of supreme talent rather than of 
great spontaneous genius. As we have seen, he was pre- 
eminently a man of his age. He was, however, something 
more than the greatest figure in a comparatively Dryden's Lit- 
inferior literary period. He is one of the great eraryRank 
poets of English literature. Though not of supreme 
stature, he is still one of the race of giants. A not un- 
worthy successor of Milton, he hands on the tradition of 
great English poetry to the men who have made illus- 
trious the literature of the last two hundred years. He 
possessed many noble qualities which raised him above 
the level of his age and made him worthy to rank with 
the great ones of the literature. Strength and sohdity of 
mind, accuracy and comprehensiveness of scholarship, as- 
tonishing fluency and versatility, masterly skill as a lit- 
erary workman, brilHant wit, keenness of discrimination 
and insight, an imagination vivid if not original, a poetic 
sense real if not profound — these are some of the qualities 
that made Dryden great. A noble poet, an almost unsur- 
passed satirist, a skilful dramatist, an accomplished literary 
critic, a master of English prose — these are some of his 
titles to honor. 

The prose of the Restoration marks a decline from the 
fervor and imaginative splendor of the early seventeenth- 
century style ; but it marks a distinct advance in Restoration 
the direction of the more modern prose virtues ^''^se 
of clearness, order, and precision. Classicism operated 



190 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

to restrain and to deaden poetry, but its influence on 
prose was in many ways advantageous. Prose before had 
vainly endeavored to reach the levels of poetry; now 
poetry for a time was brought down to the level of prose, 
and the distinctively prose virtues were cultivated. The 
final result was that each form of expression better learned 
its own powers and limitations. Thereafter, each devel- 
oped in its own proper direction. The typical prose-writer 
of the age was Dryden, and no other man save Bunyan rises 
to great distinction in this field. There were, however, sev- 
eral men who were writing prose of admirable quality. 

One of the earhest of these was Abraham Cowley, 
whose poetical work, contemporary with that of Milton, has 
Abraham already been considered. In his Discourse, by 
Cowley Way of Vision, Concerning the Government of 

Oliver Cromwell, he shows the transition from the old 
style to the new. His Essays are in the later manner. 
The subjects of Cowley's interest are shown by some of 
the titles : Of Greatness, Of Myself, Of Liberty, Of Soli- 
tude, Of Obscurity, The Garden, Probably no man of the 
time — not even Dryden — has a more modern air or a 
more finished and elegant style than Sir William Temple. 
Sir William Temple was a statesman, a diplomat, a cultured 
Temple gentleman, a man of retired leisure, and wrote 

on a considerable variety of topics suggested by his public 
or private interests and ranging from gardening to diplo- 
macy, from gout to Greek learning. Probably his most 
famous single sentence is this : 

When all is done, human life is, at the greatest and the best, but 
like a froward child, that must be played with and humoured a little to 
keep it quiet till it falls asleep, and then the care is over. 

Other writers there were — in divinity, in philosophy, in 
history, and in science — whose style illustrated 

Minor Prose . •' , , 1 . r .1 

m one way or another the tendencies of the 
age ; but it would carry us too far afield to cite individual 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (i 660-1 700) 191 

cases. They were not strictly men of letters, and their 
service to literature was purely incidental. Perhaps the 
chief service of them all as a body was in subordinating 
style to matter and thus bringing it nearer to the modern 
ideal of the function of good prose, namely, to be the 
clear and transparent medium for the untrammelled ex- 
pression of the thought. If, aside from the work of 
Bunyan, the Age of the Restoration produced no 
great masterpiece of prose literature, it did much to make 
prose style an adequate medium for great literary ex- 
pression. 

In poetry, also, the name of Dryden must be set in the 
first place. He was, indeed, first without even a near 
rival. No one was his equal as an original Restoration 
poet; no one was his equal as a translator. Poetry 
Two minor poets will serve to illustrate the rather scant 
poetical production of the period. 

Andrew Marvell was like John Bunyan in being a be- 
lated Puritan, living far on into the Restoration Period ; 
but he was a far different type of man from the Andrew 
inspired tinker of Bedford. Marvell had been Marveii 
associated with the Puritan party and had been promi- 
nent in public life. Among other positions he held under 
Cromwell that of joint Latin secretary with Milton. After 
the Restoration he remained in pubhc life, sitting in 
Parliament an austere and incorruptible patriot among 
base and venal politicians. His earher poetry was de- 
scriptive and lyrical, and contains much that is beautiful 
and melodious. His later work, following the fashion of 
the later time, was satirical. His satire is severe and even 
savage, but he never attained to anything of that finish 
and brilliancy in satire which characterized the work of 
Dryden, to anything of that quality which lifts satire above 
the interest of a mere passing day, and makes it im- 
mortal. 



192 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

Samuel Butler was also a satirist, and one of very dif- 
ferent fashion. He, too, lacked Dryden's perfect art in 
Samuel satire, as he also lacked either Dryden's or 

Butler Marvell's poetical gift ; but his work had de- 

cided effectiveness in its own way, and gains added inter- 
est from its historical relations. No poet better represents 
the revolt against Puritanism. His masterpiece — for it 
is a masterpiece of its sort — is a mock-epic poem called 
Hudibras. It is a ridiculous lampoon of the vices and 
peculiarities of the extreme Puritan. Sir Hudibras and his 
squire Ralpho were suggested by Don Quixote and Sancho 
Panza; but their adventures are mainly of Butler's own 
devising. The first part of the work was published in 
1663. It became extremely popular with the court party; 
and under the influence of this popularity, Butler extended 
it from time to time until as late as 1678. As a whole, it 
possesses no great literary merit, either in construction of 
plot or in conception of characters ; but Butler had a keen 
and bitter wit, and parts of the poem are shrewdly satirical 
and vividly grotesque. Among other things he says that 
the Puritans 

Compound for sins they are inclined to 
By damning those they have no mind to. 

A sort of remote echo of the beautiful lyric poetry of 
the earlier Cavalier poets is heard in the poems of a num- 
ber of brilliant but profligate Restoration versifiers. One 

of the most charming is a song of Sir Charles 

Sedley, beginning 

Love still has something of the sea, 
From whence his Mother rose. 

An Epitaph on Charles II, by John Wilmot, Earl of 
Rochester, is exceedingly apt to its subject, and 

Rochester , ,,, , ,..,., 

has probably never been surpassed m its kind : 



Sedley 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (1660-1700) 193 

Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King, 

Whose word no man reHes on, 
Who never said a fooHsh thing. 

And never did a wise one. 

The theatres, which had been closed during the Puritan 
domination, were immediately opened at the Restoration. 
Dramatic spectacles became immensely popular. Restoration 
and the demand for dramatic work was great. Drama 
We have already seen that Dryden yielded to this demand 
almost entirely for about fifteen years. He was by no 
means alone. Indeed, a large number of writers, of greater 
or less ability, were attracted to the drama, and an extensive 
body of dramatic work was produced. Most of it was 
marked by two striking characteristics — brilliancy of treat- 
ment and profligacy of manners. The English drama has 
never displayed greater finish or wit, and it has never de- 
scended to a lower moral level. Dryden himself was no 
exception to this general rule, being in this, as in so many 
other respects, the creature of his age. 

One of the most striking exceptions was Thomas Otway, 
the most successful writer of tragedy in the period. His 
two principal works. The Orphan and Venice Pre- Thomas 
served, are not unworthy of the Elizabethan ^*^^y 
dramatic tradition. Otway was inferior in genius to most 
of his great predecessors ; but he still retained something 
of their quality. He had much of their tragic intensity, 
much of their romantic spirit, and not a little of their gift 
of true poetry. He knew how to strike the note of terror 
and the note of pathos. His feeling is sincere, his char- 
acters are natural, his plots are interesting. When he 
endeavors to introduce a comic element into his work, he 
is decidedly unfortunate and not untouched by the prevail- 
ing coarseness ; but within his own field, he is a true though 
limited master. 

It is in comedy that the characteristic features of the 



194 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

age are seen. There were many writers, but four of them 
wiiuam stand out with unusual prominence. The first 
wycheriey of thesc is William Wycherley, who probably rep- 
resents the fashionable life of the age at its basest if not 
at its most immoral. Macaulay characterizes Wycherley's 
Coimtry Wife as " one of the most profligate and heartless 
of human compositions," and says of his Plain-Dealer that 
it is ** equally immoral and equally well-written." Wycher- 
ley had wit and dramatic skill, but these do not save his 
immorality from being somewhat brutal as well as flagrant. 

William Congreve was greater in almost every respect. 
Probably no more brilHant dialogue or more sparkling wit 
William than his has been seen in English comedy. His 
Congreve characters are natural ; his plots are interesting, 
though sacrificed somewhat to his dialogue. His immoral- 
ity is less heartless than Wycherley's, but its greater refine- 
ment does not save his work from being both cynical and 
corrupt. This immoral element is a part of the very tex- 
ture of his plays and can not be eradicated ; but if we 
could imagine them as existing at all without it, such plays 
as The Double-Dealer, Love for Love, and The Way of the 
World would be among the best as well as among the 
most brilliant of English comedies of manners. 

Sir John Vanbrugh at his best approaches Congreve, 
but is much more unequal. The Relapse, The Provoked 
Sir John Wife, and The Confederacy are his three note- 

Vanbrugh worthy plays. The latter carries us a little way 
into the eighteenth century. 

The same may be said of the best productions of 
George Farquhar, such as The Recruiting Officer and The 
George Beaux' Stratagem. Farquhar is no model of 

Farquhar morality; but the plays just mentioned are a 
decided improvement over those of his contemporaries, 
as well as over his own early efforts. He is more frank, 
more good-natured, characterized by genial humor rather 



THE AGE OF DRYDEN (1660-1700) 195 

than by biting wit. The Recruiting Officer contains the 
character of Captain Plume — said to be drawn from Far- 
quhar himself — and that of Sergeant Kite — the singer 
of " Over the hills and far away." The Beaux' Stratagem 
gives US' Boniface, the inn-keeper, and Lady Bountiful. 
It is probably the very best of Restoration comedies ; and 
Farquhar's death at twenty-nine probably cut short the 
promise of still better work in both the artistic sense and 
the moral. 




Elstow Church and Green, 1658 



CHAPTER XI 

THE AGE OF POPE (i 700-1 740) 

The Age of Dryden, as we have seen, was character- 
ized by a reaction against Puritanism and by the develop- 
ment of Classicism. The former movement tended toward 
frivolity, licentiousness, and practical if not theoretical 
irreligion. Looseness of life did not necessarily involve 
unbelief, but it did involve practical unrighteousness. The 
classical movement tended toward repression of emotion, 
of imagination, and of originality — toward undue em- 
phasis upon the literary value of mere reason, and toward 
formal excellence and finish of style. With reference 
to these movements — the religious and the literary 
Moral — the Age of Pope marked both reaction and 

Reaction advancc. The reaction appeared chiefly on the 
religious side, and it was a reaction which meant decided 
improvement in life and incidentally in the moral tone of 
literature. The Age of Pope was not a rehgious age, 
it did not experience any great revival of morality or of 
Christian zeal ; but it did perceive that the previous gen- 
eration had gone too far, that its spirit was destructive of 
human society and of the highest values in literature, and 
that effort must be made to bring back a purer moral tone. 
This effort was consciously and effectively made, and the 
literature of this age became in consequence vastly cleaner, 
both in thought and in speech. There was no reversion 
to Puritanism ; the men of the time had little taste for that. 
But there was a reaction against moral lawlessness ; and the 
age took a middle ground between Puritan strictness and 

196 



I 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 197 

Restoration licentiousness. It can not be said that this 
produced an age of pure living and of high ideals. Cor- 
ruption and bribery were common in politics. Drunken- 
ness, brutality, and crime were prevalent to an alarming 
extent. The reformation was perhaps too much a matter 
of form, of profession, and of theory, rather than of spirit. 
Nevertheless, there was a gain, and the reaction against 
Restoration excess involved a real advance toward a rec- 
ognition of higher standards. 

This reaction on the moral side was accompanied 
by an unquestionable advance on the side of Classicism. 
Conformity to recognized literary authority was still further 
emphasized, individuality was still further re- Advance in 
pressed ; and the age doubtless felt that this, Classicism 
like the effort for greater morality, was in the interest of 
social order as well as for the advantage of literature. 
Originality became less and less ; order, regularity, critical 
authority, became more and more. Imagination and pas- 
sion were restrained, in order that mere expression might 
be polished and refined to the last degree. The effort was, 
not to say something new, but to say something better 
than it had ever been said before. It might be supposed 
that this would be utterly fatal to great literary creation, 
and its tendency unquestionably was in that direction. 
Nevertheless, the age did great things for literature, and 
even opened up new literary highways. This is proba- 
bly due chiefly to the fact that the age possessed a number 
of men of remarkable literary ability, too great to be alto- 
gether bound and hindered even by the rules which they 
had set for themselves. Genius has not seldom found its 
own instinctive way, in spite of theory and prescription. 
Moreover, this age was already beginning to be uncon- 
sciously stirred by certain human forces that were later to 
overthrow Classicism and to shape the literature of the 
coming time. Nor must we think of Classicism itself as 



198 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

altogether a negative influence. It had positive virtues 
which helped to give an added efficiency to literature, and 
which, as we shall see, were to make real contribution 
toward literary development. 

The worst effect of Classicism was felt in poetry. 
Great poetry lives and moves in the realm of passion and 
Classicism imagination ; and when these are restrained, its 
and Poetry wiugs are clipped. There is no poet of the age, 
therefore, spreading ''ample pinion," and 

Sailing with supreme dominion 
Thro'' the azure deep of air. 

But there is at least one — Alexander Pope — who spreads 
abroad the ample fan of the peacock's gorgeous feathers 
and struts with measured stride across the smooth green 
sward. Prose, on the contrary, drew decided advantage 
Classicism from thcsc samc conditions. What it needed 
and Prose ^^s, not the high passion of Milton or the 
golden imagery of Jeremy Taylor, but just those qualities 
of regularity, precision, directness, and reason which this 
age was so well fitted to provide. As a prose period, this 
is one of the most notable in English literature ; and to its 
classical influences we owe it in large measure that our 
modern English prose approaches the admirable clearness 
and lucidity of the French rather than the comparative 
formlessness of the German. Our own earlier prose- 
writers, great as many of them undoubtedly were, were 
headed in the wrong direction ; and English prose style 
needed just such discipline and guidance as it was now 
to receive, in order that it might henceforth take its own 
proper path and develop its own natural powers. Prose 
has not altogether ceased to soar, on due occasion ; but in 
the main, its proper function is pedestrian, and its daily 
business is to serve as the useful servant of the world's 
thought. In view of this important mission, it was decid- 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 199 

edly worth while that one period of our Hterary his- 
tory should be devoted chiefly to learning the lesson of 
a serviceable prose style. That lesson the Uterature has 
never forgotten. 

The most unique genius of the age, and beyond doubt 
its great prose-writer, was Jonathan Swift. He was of 
English parentage, and of decidedly English character and 
genius; but the accidents of his life determined that he 
should be much associated with Ireland, and Jonathan 
this association was to have important bearings Swift: Life 
upon his literary work. He was born in Dublin in 1667, 
and received his education first at Kilkenny School and 
afterward at Trinity College, Dublin. It will thus appear 
that he was Irish by place of birth and by education, and 
that all of his early life was passed in Ireland. After 
leaving college, however, he went to England, where he 
served for nearly ten years as private secretary to Sir 
William Temple, whom we have already met as one of the 
prose-writers of the Restoration Period. Temple was a 
distant relative of Swift, and was doubtless as wilHng as 
he was able to be of service to the young man in the 
beginnings of his literary career. The association, how- 
ever, was not in all respects a happy one; Swift had a 
terribly proud and imperious nature and could ill brook the 
relation of a mere underling to any man. Consequently, 
he entered the church and became the incumbent of a 
small Irish parish. Little satisfied with his new life, he 
soon returned to Temple's service ; but on the death of 
the latter in 1699, he went to Ireland again. A mission 
for the Archbishop of DubUn finally brought him to 
London, where his vigorous personality and great literary 
ability soon made him an almost indispensable political 
instrument to some of the Tory leaders. They held out 
to him the hope of a bishopric ; but the opposition of 
Queen Anne is said to have frustrated this plan. His 



200 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

important services were finally rewarded — in a fashion 
bitterly disappointing to him — with the deanery of St. 
Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin. This took him to Ireland 
again ; and there he lived for the remaining thirty years 
or more of his life. What seemed to him like exile was 
occasionally broken by visits to his friends in England. 
After terrible physical suffering and some five years of 
madness, he died in Dublin in 1745. 

Swift was a man of astonishing genius, and might have 
been eminent in almost any intellectual pursuit. He was 

primarily a man of action, and turned to litera- 
f^Chfracter ^^^^ mainly as an instrument for advancing his 

practical ends. He found it, too, a medium 
through which he might pour forth the passion of his 
intense nature and the vivid experience of his strange 
career. His literary work, therefore, is closely associated 
with the events of his life and often needs the illumination 
which those events throw upon it. On the whole, his was 
a disappointed Hfe, and the note of bitterness and resent- 
ment is a familiar one in his writings. Aside from his 
actual physical ills and personal sorrows, the secret of his 
pessimism is probably to be found in his proud and imperi- 
ous temper. He was conscious of immense powers, he felt 
a half contempt for some of the greatest men of his time 
even while he was compelled to court their favor ; and it 
was only natural that such a spirit should scorn a patron- 
age that often seemed like unwilling charity and should 
bitterly resent an ingratitude that blighted his ambitious 
dreams. His pessimism grew into a gigantic contempt for 
the whole despicable race of men. His personal grievances 
were magnified until they distorted for him the true pro- 
portions of human life. His own diseased eye discolored 
his vision of the world. The literary weapon that he knew 
so well how to wield became an instrument of fierce and 
scornful vengeance. He carried satire to the extreme of 



THE AGE OF POPE (i 700-1 740) 201 

coarse vituperation, and even penned some of the most 
disgusting passages in English. His clerical robes seemed 
to be forgotten as he waded in the mire. Apparently, he 
had no conscience about wounding the sensibilities of 
others or about contaminating his own mind. Such de- 
scription may seem exaggerated, but it is not too strong to 
present one side of Swift's nature. Yet we must remem- 
ber that it is only one side — the side on which he was 
most faulty and most human. There were nobler and 
more generous phases of his character; and these, too, 
find frequent expression in his literary works as well as in 
the acts of his life. What Swift might have been as a 
happy, successful, prosperous, courted, and abundantly 
honored man, the brief period of his political career gives 
us some opportunity to conjecture. It is just possible that, 
lacking the spur, he might not have run the race. It 
seems more probable that his love of applause, his spirit 
of emulation, his proud consciousness of his own masterful 
powers, would themselves have been a 'sufficient stimulus, 
and that the world would have been the gainer by a liter- 
ary product not less powerful and much more genial and 
humane. Such Swift might have been. What he was and 
did is part of England's literary history, and the nature of 
that record some consideration of his literary work will 
give us further opportunity to see. 

His first important production, TJie Battle of the Books ^ 
was written during the time of his service with Sir William 
Temple ; and it connects itself with a famous 3^^^!^ ^^ ^he 
controversy, in which Temple was engaged, ^0°^^ 
over the comparative merits of ancient and modern liter- 
ature. Swift, like Temple, was on the side of the ancients. 
The work portrays, in characteristically vivid and vigorous 
fashion, an imaginary battle between the ancient and the 
modern books in St. James's Library. Here Swift dis- 
plays his wide range of learning and his remarkable 



202 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

powers in allegory and in satire. The famous phrase 
" sweetness and light " is found in this work. 

His Tale of a Tub, written at about the same time, is 
also an allegorical satire. It deals with religion, repre- 
A Tale of a senting Romanism by Peter, Lutheranism and 
Tub Anglicanism by Martin, and Calvinism by Jack. 

These characters were, of course, suggested by St. Peter, 
Martin Luther, and John Calvin. They are represented 
as three brothers who quarrelled over their inheritance. 
The work has an air of irreverence, though Swift probably 
meant no disrespect to true religion. At any rate, it was 
this book that is said to have lost him his bishopric. On 
the literary side. Swift here appears as a supreme master 
of irony. No wonder that the politicians of his day both 
feared and courted a man who could wield so terrible 
a weapon. They perceived, too, that he commanded the 
most finished and powerful prose style that had yet been 
written in English. 

During the years immediately following. Swift dis- 
played his great abilities in a number of minor papers 
Papers and ^^^ pamphlets. His rather cruel humor is well 
Pamphlets illustrated by a huge practical joke perpetrated 
upon one Partridge, a professed astrologer and the pub- 
hsher of a popular almanac. Swift wrote a prediction that 
Partridge would die on a certain day. After the day had 
passed, he pubHshed a circumstantial account of Par- 
tridge's death, and solemnly maintained the joke against 
the vigorous protests of the unhappy victim. In the same 
jesting spirit he wrote an ironical Argument against 
Abolishing Christianity, urging with mock seriousness 
that after all Christianity was not such a bad thing and 
ought to be retained. His political pamphlets were mas- 
terly examples of their kind ; but they do not quite keep 
their interest for the present day except as specimens of 
Swift's style. 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 203 

During this period he wrote his famous Journal to Stella, 
a series of letters to Esther Johnson, a young woman whom 
he had first met in the household of Sir William Temple, 
and who maintained for him a lifelong attach- journal to 
ment. His precise relations to her and to an- steiia 
other woman known as "Vanessa" are little understood. 
In tho. Jot^rnal Swift " unlocks his heart." It was in effect 
a private diary, written partly in cipher and never intended 
for publication ; and its revelations are of the most inti- 
mate sort. The men and manners of his time, his per- 
sonal daily experiences in London, are graphically described. 
His vanity, his imperiousness, his ambition, are here ; but 
here, also, is a playful tenderness in singular contrast 
with his ordinary fierce and contemptuous attitude toward 
the world. After Swift's death there was found among 
his papers a little package with the inscription, '* only a 
woman's hair." 

The more generous side of Swift's nature is also shown 
by his interest in the Irish people and by his Hterary labors 
in their behalf. An excellent illustration is found in The 
Drapier's Letters. The EngHsh government had ^he Drapier's 
hcensed a speculator to issue debased half-pence Letters 
for circulation in Ireland. This seemed to Swift like base 
and contemptible robbery ; and he poured forth all the 
resources of his sarcasm in a successful effort to defeat 
the scheme. His financial wisdom in the matter is doubt- 
ful enough ; but his generous championship made him a 
popular hero in Ireland. A later brief work is entitled a 
Modest Proposal for preventing the Children of Modest 
Poor People from being a Burden. The " mod- Proposal 
esty " of the proposal may be judged from the fact 
that he pretended to advocate the fattening of Irish chil- 
dren for the English market, that they might be served up 
as delicacies on the tables of the rich. No work better 
displays Swift's almost supernatural gift of irony. 



204 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

The most famous result of Swift's literary activity is 
Guiuver's ^is GulHver's Travels. It is at once a bitter 
Travels satire, a parable of human life, and a series of 

fascinating romantic stories. Captain Lemuel Gulliver, a 
bluff and honest sailor, undertakes four different voyages, 
on each of which he meets with marvelous adventures. 
On the first voyage, he is shipwrecked on the coast of the 
Lilliputians, a people averaerine^ some six inches 

First Voyage • /• , 't^/^ ^^ • • .. 

m height. The story is as interesting as a 
child's wonder-book ; but when we see ordinary human 
motives reduced to this diminutive scale and read of the 
petty Lilliputian conflicts over politics and religion, we 
become aware of Swift's satirical intention. He makes 
his kind ridiculous by comparing their pompous activities 
and ambitions with those of an ant-hill. 

Gulliver's second voyage brings him to Brobdingnag, the 
land of giants sixty feet in height. The story is still fasci- 
Second natiug, but the satire is reversed. Gulliver is 

Voyage ^^^ himself the contemptible figure ; and as he 

tells the king of Brobdingnag about his own land and 
people, we are made to feel the incredulous scorn of a high 
and generous nature for beings who could be so base and 
despicable. Actions and motives to which we are accus- 
tomed in human society are here looked at through other 
eyes and from a nobler point of view, and human dignity 
shrinks into a very little thing. 

The third voyage is less interesting as a mere story, 
while the satire becom.es more prominent, more bitter, and 
more detailed. In Laputa, the flying island, we 
oyage ^^^^^ with a racc of mathematical philosophers, 
lost in abstract speculations. At the academy of Lagado, 
we are introduced to learned men who spend their lives 
on all sorts of futile projects, such as trying to extract 
sunbeams from cucumbers. Glubdubdrib is the island 
of sorcerers or magicians ; and here Gulliver has an op- 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 205 

portunity to conjure up the spirits of the great dead 
and to compare them with the degenerate moderns. In 
Luggnagg, he sees the Struldbrugs, a race of immortals 
grown horrible and loathsome in their immortality. It is 
to this, Swift would tell us, that humanity would come if 
death did not mercifully cut it off. 

The most terrible satire of all is reserved for the last 
voyage. Here Gulliver tells of the Houyhnhnms, a gentle 
and intelligent race of horses who look with Fourth 
loathing contempt upon the Yahoos, an utterly Voyage 
debased type of human beings. Gulliver himself is merely 
tolerated as an unusually good specimen of these filthy 
and degraded animals. It is with an almost demoniac 
laughter that Swift thus heaps scorn and contempt upon 
the race to which he belongs. This is no longer a child's 
story. It is the terrible sarcasm of a tremendous genius 
made mad by his own pride and rage and disappointment. 
Gulliver's Travels is one of the most powerful and fascinat- 
ing books in literature. It is also one of the most terrible. 

Swift's great genius is strikingly individual ; his work 
shows the movements of strong passion and vivid imagina- 
tion. Nevertheless, it is in its own way typical g^jf^ ^^d ws 
of the classical age. It is so in its prose style — ^ge 
so forcible and so direct, and yet so clear and so finished. 
It is so in its realism — in that interest in contemporary 
life and contemporary problems which the classical revolt 
from romanticism had brought with it. It is so in its 
intellectuality ; for strong as passion is in Swift's work, 
passion is dominated by intelligence. It is so in its satire ; 
for literary history makes very clear the fact that satire 
and Classicism have many affinities. Swift v^as too vehe- 
ment a spirit to be unwillingly bound by any traditions or 
any conventions. Yet his own literary faith and practice 
were in essential harmony with those of his generation. 

Joseph Addison affords a most striking contrast with 



206 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

Swift in all personal and in most literary qualities. The 
Joseph distinguishing mark of his work is the mark of 

Addison refined elegance, of polite amiability. A little 
cold he may have been, not altogether genial, perhaps with a 
slight tinge of well-bred malice, but always the easy and 
courtly gentleman. Swift's proud and aggressive nature 
aroused opposition and made enemies ; and he ended in 
disappointment and despair. Addison's easy, smiling grace 
made only friends, and carried him very far on the road of 
political preferment and of literary honor. Swift longed 
for a bishopric and got only an Irish deanship. Addison 
rose to be Chief Secretary of State and married a countess. 
Perhaps no man ever achieved so much in political life by 
virtue of merely literary abilities. Nor was he undeserv- 
ing of his honors. His character was pure, finished, 
refined, noble ; and these qualities have put their stamp 
upon all his literary work. 

Addison first came into general notice by means of a 
poem on the battle of Blenheim, entitled The Campaign. 
Poems and ^^ ^ad no spccial aptitude for work of so mar- 
Dramas tiai a character ; but his literary skill was equal 
to the task imposed upon it, and he succeeded in producing 
a poem which became extremely popular. It was, to be 
sure, written at a time when good poetry was the greatest 
of rarities, and when any tolerably good poetic performance 
might expect to be received with admiration. Its pop- 
ularity was, of course, largely due to the subject ; for 
England was just then rejoicing over the great victory 
and extravagantly lauding the great Duke of Marlborough, 
the general whose military genius had won it. The merit 
of the poem consists chiefly in one fine passage. Of his 
other poems, we need mention only his hymns. They con- 
tain some really beautiful poetry, perhaps a little artificial, 
but nevertheless sincere and imaginative. Addison was 
not a great poet, even for his own rather unpoetical day. 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 207 

This and other limitations are apparent in his dramatic 
work. He wrote an opera called Rosamund, a comedy 
called The Drummer, and a classical tragedy called Cato. 
None of these attained a genuine dramatic success. Cato 
was vastly admired in its own day ; but it now seems cold, 
artificial, and lifeless. Whatever of merit the dramas have, 
is the result of skilful literary workmanship rather than of 
true dramatic or poetic genius. 

Addison's genius was essentially that of the prose- 
writer, and more particularly of the periodical essayist. 
He had above all the gift of prose style. Dr. Addison's 
Johnson, in the next generation, characterized Prose Genius 
Addison's style as " familiar but not coarse, and elegant but 
not ostentatious." The characterization is apt and suffi- 
cient ; for it is just this combination of ease and elegance 
which still seems to our day the distinctive quality of 
Addison's manner. His writing is like the intimate but 
dignified conversation of a cultured gentleman. It makes 
no effort, but it never fails of its desired effect. Beyond 
the gift of mere style, Addison had other important qual- 
ities of a great writer. He had a refined wit and the 
power of delicate satire. He had keen observation of life 
and manners and the ability to give interest and charm to 
the treatment of subjects associated with daily experience. 
He had a delicate literary taste, and a critical faculty, acute 
if not profound, just if not strikingly original. Perhaps 
his highest literary faculty was that of graphic and lightly 
satirical portraiture of character. All of these qualities 
appear in his periodical essays, which constitute with 
posterity his chief claim to literary fame. These essays 
were written in association with Steele ; and it will be best 
to reserve the closer consideration of them until we can 
consider by itself the work which the two men did 
together. 

In the present connection, however, it is well to note 



208 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

Addison's character as a moralist ; for in all his work, and 
in his periodical essays more especially, he takes the atti- 
tude of a conscious and professed moral instructor. He 
was a man of pure life and of religious conviction, and he 
definitely set before himself the task and the duty of help- 
ing to improve the morals and the manners of his age. 
He dealt with manners on the side of morals and with 
morals on the side of manners. In this attitude, as well as 
Addison and in his refined and polished style, he was work- 
hisAge jj^g jj^ conscious or unconscious harmony with 

the classical spirit of his time. His satire, too, less fero- 
cious and more urbane than that of Swift, distinctly marks 
his classical temper. Other evidence in the same direction 
is afforded by his interest in contemporary Hfe and by the 
reaHsm of his well-known portrayals of contemporary types 
of character. 

The personality of Richard Steele is more complicated 
and much less easy to define. He was a scholar, he was 
a gentleman, he was a literary genius, he was a good and 
generous soul, but he was also somewhat of a vagabond. 
The type has not been an uncommon one in the realm of 
Sir Richard literature and art, and is perhaps best described by 
Steele the word " Bohemian." Full of faults, fitful and 

erratic, Steele was yet one of the most lovable personal- 
ities of his age. He left the University without his degree, 
went into the army, and rose to the rank of captain. 
Entering politics, he became a member of Parliament, and 
later was made Sir Richard. He made two wealthy 
marriages ; but his spendthrift habits greatly reduced his 
fortune. In a not very bad sense of the term, he was 
an adventurer, trying many things and failing in most. 
Among other roles, he adopts in his writings that of the 
preacher of morals and religion. His life was not 
altogether consistent with such professions, and he was 
even sneered at as a hypocrite ; but all that we know of 



THE AGE OF POPE (i 700-1 740) 209 

the man justifies our faith in his genuine if somewhat 
faulty sincerity. Even in his inconsistencies there is a 
thoroughly human quality which adds to his charm. 

Steele made his first literary venture while he was still 
in the army by writing a book of devotion which he called 
The Christian Hero. From this path, he turned, not very 
consistently, to the stage, and wrote three comedies. The 
Funeral^ The Lying Loverydiwd The Tender Hus- Steele's Lit- 
ba7td. This list was added to some twenty years "^^^ ^°^^ 
later by The Conscions Lovers. Steele has an interesting 
vein of genial comedy ; but there is looseness in his plots 
as well as in his morals. Tenderness and good humor are 
his best qualities. In spite of some real success, however, 
it is not in his plays that Steele attains to literary excel- 
lence, but rather in his work with Addison in the field of 
the periodical essay. That was his true forte, and there 
he displayed real genius. His style is less brilliant than 
Addison's, but it has at its best a charming air of careless 
ease which even Addison could not quite match. It is 
rather genial than elegant, rather natural than precise. 
Sometimes he becomes dignified, didactic, or argumenta- 
tive, but this manner does not sit so easily upon him. He 
shares with Addison the credit for skill in literary portrai- 
ture, and has perhaps claims to greater originality. What 
he suggested, Addison elaborated and sustained. He him- 
self is very generous in his acknowledgment of indebtedness 
to Addison ; but Addison probably owes to him something 
of his greater reputation. It is often difficult to separate 
the work of the two, and perhaps not much worth the 
while to try. 

It has already been intimated that Addison and Steele 
worked together in originating and in bringing to its per- 
fection the literary type known as the periodical xhe Period- 
essay. The beginning seems to have been made ^^ai Essay 
by Steele, who in 1709 started a periodical known as The 



210 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

Tatler. It consisted of a series of papers or essays treat- 
ing various subjects associated with contemporary life and 
manners. Addison was a frequent contributor, and in this 
way he and Steele came to form the sort of literary part- 
nership which has forever associated their names with each 
other. The Tatler was rather short-lived, but was almost 
immediately succeeded by The Spectator. This 

The spectator . , ^ . •' ■ r 1 

IS the most famous representative of a large 
number of similar periodicals published in this and the 
next generation, and may serve as a type of the rest. It 
was published at first on every week-day and after- 
ward three times a week. The six hundred and thirty- 
five papers were by many hands, but the great majority of 
them were written by either Addison or Steele, They 
are on a great variety of topics, from party patches 
to pin-money, from Westminster Abbey to the Royal Ex- 
change, from lovers to lawyers, from impudence to im- 
mortality, from female flirts to henpecked husbands, from 
literary criticism to fox-hunting. Many of them deal with 
the vices and follies of the time, holding them up to mild 
ridicule and making them appear as violations not only 
of good morals but of good taste. They endeavor to 
sweeten morality with wit and to temper wit with morality. 
The age was in many ways coarse, selfish, and frivolous ; 
and it was the aim of these men to elevate its ideas, to 
improve its manners, and to better its moral standards. 
They were preachers, but surely the most engaging and 
attractive and persuasive preachers that one can well 
imagine. They set up no impossible ideals, they uttered 
no fierce denunciations ; they laughed gayly at the age 
and made it laugh at itself; passing "from grave to gay, 
from lively to severe," they accomplished their purpose by 
brilliant wit, charming good nature, vividness of fancy, and 
elegance of style. 

The greatest achievement associated with The Spectator 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 211 

is contained in the so-called Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. 
In the introductory paper of the periodical, Addison had 
sketched the imaginary portrait of the supposed xheDeCover- 
author of the succeeding essays, whom he called ley Papers 
•' the Spectator," and had alluded to a certain club called 
the Spectator Club, in which the essays were to be discussed 
previous to their publication. Steele took up this idea in 
the second paper, and presented brief but graphic charac- 
ter-sketches of the several members of the club — the 
Templar, Sir Andrew Freeport, Captain Sentry, Will 
Honeycomb, the Clergyman, and most important of all, 
the good Tory Squire, Sir Roger de Coverley. These 
members of the club represent respectively the law, trade 
and commerce, the army, the ladies, the church, and the 
country interest; each class of society is to have its 
spokesman, so that none shall be treated unfairly. In 
a score of later papers, Steele's genuine creation is still 
further elaborated. We see Sir Roger at the club, on his 
country estate, among his servants and friends, at church, 
in love, on the hunting field, in town, at the theatre, at 
Westminster Abbey ; and, finally, we have a touching 
account of his death. Here are almost all the ele- 
ments of a novel, though the novel is not yet born. 
Lifelike characters and interesting incidents are here ; 
further than this, the novel demands only a definite plot 
and a unified picture of human life. In the power of 
character-portrayal, Addison and Steele show a skill which 
is to provide the novel with a most useful lesson. More- 
over, they have originated a new type in literature, the 
English periodical essay. To have created one new type 
and to have partly laid the foundations for another is no 
mean achievement for an age which we commonly think 
of as lacking in hterary originaHty. When we add to this 
the perfecting of prose style as an instrument of literary 
expression, we shall see that literature owes much to the 



212 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

early eighteenth century, and not least to Addison and 
Steele. No work of the time is more typical in all of 
these respects than the series of essays which we call the 
Sir Roger de Coveidey Paper's. These sketches have the 
classical realism, the classical finish of style, the classical 
conformity to good taste and good judgment, the clas- 
sical facility in satire, the classical respect for recognized 
authority. To all this, they add the flavor of something 
new in literary art. 

Still another great prose-writer of the age is Daniel 
Defoe. Defoe began his literary career as a political 
pamphleteer, and in this field he was second only 
to Swift. One of his best productions of this 
sort is his Shortest Way with the Dissenters. Though a 
dissenter himself, he wrote in the tone of a High Church 
Tory, advising the government to use the severest meas- 
ures against religious nonconformists. The Tories at first 
took his suggestions seriously ; and when they discovered 
that he was only laughing at them, they set him in the 
pillory, where he received a popular ovation. The irony 
of this work is very near akin to Defoe's marvelous gift 
of minute realism, of lending to his most extravagant 
fancies a deceptive air of verisimilitude — a gift in which 
he is even Swift's superior and in which he has probably 
never had an equal. This is nowhere better shown than 
in his Journal of the Plague Year. He describes the great 
plague of London in 1665 with the careful fidelity of a 
simple and honest eye-witness. Th.Q Journal w2iS actually 
believed to have been written by such a man ; but as a 
matter of fact, Defoe was only a young child when the 
events took place. This same gift of realism is still 
further displayed in a series of unique romances, of which 
one has proved to be a great masterpiece. Captain Single- 
ton, Memoirs of a Cavalier, Moll Flanders, Colonel Jack, 
Roxanay and other works are interesting and important 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 213 

contributions to our early fiction ; but Robinson Crusoe 
has eclipsed them all. 

There is probably no romantic fiction in the world that 
has so much the air of truth. When Robinson Crusoe was 
written, there was nothing more to learn in this Robinson 
direction in preparation for the modern novel. Crusoe 
All the powers displayed in Defoe's other works are here 
gathered. The conception of a man cast away on a desert 
island was not in itself a great invention ; but Defoe 
knew how to devise interesting incidents, to give a natural 
atmosphere and a local color, to add those apparently 
trivial touches of realistic detail which make us feel that 
all this must have happened just as it is told. The style 
is less polished than that of Addison, less forcible than 
that of Swift ; but it is wonderfully well adapted to its 
purpose of telling a simple, straightforward, yet fascinating 
story. The relation of Robinson Crusoe to the beginnings 
of the novel gives it an added interest. Addison and 
Steele had shown the way in the portrayal of natural 
human characters, and Defoe marks no advance in this 
direction. His contribution was that of realistic method. 
He comes nearer also to having a plot and has remarkable 
gifts as a mere story-teller ; but in this particular he does 
not go beyond Bunyan and Swift. His work fails of being 
a novel because the incidents are simply strung on the 
career of a single character. A little more unity in plot, 
a little more fulness in the treatment of character-relations, 
and the novel will exist. The necessary step was a short 
one, though of vast importance. Defoe was not to take 
that step; but he, more than any other man, pointed out 
the way to those who were to take it in the next gener- 
ation. 

The age was preeminently one of great prose literature ; 
and Swift, Addison, Steele, and Defoe are only the great- 
est in a considerable company of prose-writers. Scholars, 



214 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

divines, philosophers, and poKticians were all contributing 
to the development of prose and displaying in one way or 
another the qualities of style that were characteristic of 
the time. They do not call, however, for special considera- 
tion ; for none of them produced any great masterpiece of 
imaginative literature, and matters of style are sufficiently 
illustrated by the authors already treated. All of these 
Prose and authors wrotc somc poetry as well as much 
Poetry prosc ; but uouQ of it is of very great merit. 

That of Addison is the best, and Addison's poetry is rather 
stiff and frigid. Besides these there was a large group 
of professed poets, nearly all of decidedly minor rank. 
Matthew Prior was a writer of satirical verse tales and 
light love songs, and enjoyed in his day a considerable 
reputation and influence. John Gay, a good-natured and 
rather vagabond poet, produced satires, burlesques, and 
some excellent lyrics. James Thomson and Edward Young 
continued their work into the next period, and may best 
be considered in company with the later poets. It re- 
mains only to dwell upon the work and genius of the one 
shining poetic figure of the age — Alexander Pope. 

Pope is preeminently the poet of Classicism. His influ- 
ence distinctly served to exalt authority in Hterature rather 
Alexander than Originality. In his poetry, the real is em- 
Pope phasized rather than the ideal. He valued form 
more than substance, and followed reason rather than 
imagination. His style seeks always the classical regu- 
larity, correctness, and finish in expression. On another 
side, we see him dealing with nature chiefly as an acces- 
sory and a background. His subjects are drawn mainly 
from abstract thought or from contemporary society. He 
is artificial and stilted in diction, and becomes a genuine 
poet only by virtue of a remarkable aptitude for his chosen 
tasks and a superb literary workmanship. That he is a 
genuine poet — in his own way and within his own range 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 21$ 

— may be safely maintained, even against much insinua- 
tion to the contrary. 

The harmony of Pope's genius with the tendencies of 
his age gives him a unique position in the historical devel- 
opment of EngHsh poetry. He occupied in his popejnhis 
time a position somewhat similar to that which Age 
Dryden occupied in the Age of the Restoration. He was 
not so unquestionably the greatest literary genius of his 
time, for that position belongs rather to Jonathan Swift ; 
but he at least shared with Swift and Addison the literary 
primacy, and in the field of poetry his influence was su- 
preme. He may not unfairly be regarded as the central 
literary figure of his day, especially in those long periods 
when Swift was absent in Ireland. He was classical, not 
alone by native genius and by the influence of the age, but 
by deliberate training and practice. In his early years, 
he fell under the influence of eminent literary men who 
discerned and encouraged his natural gifts. This same 
influence he in turn exerted upon both the poets and the 
prose-writers who were his contemporaries. He enjoyed 
throughout his life the acquaintance and in many cases the 
friendship of the most prominent men of his time, both liter- 
ary and non-literary. His interest in all literary movements 
was continually alert and intense. The peculiarity of his 
position as almost the only great poet in a generation of 
great prose-writers probably served to increase his reputa- 
tion and to confirm his influence. It probably modified 
and limited that influence in some ways ; but it also made 
it more definite and apparent. It certainly served to de- 
fine more clearly his personal genius and to emphasize his 
poetical eminence. 

Pope's power was manifested almost exclusively in poet- 
ical work, and yet his genius had in it a large pope's Limi- 
prosaic element. His limitations were scarcely tations 
less marked than his undoubted abilities. He failed in 



2l6 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

appreciation of the higher forms of beauty ; he was deficient 
in spontaneity and intensity ; he lacked force and passion ; 
he had little dramatic power on the one hand and little 
love for nature on the other ; he was almost incapable of 
grandeur or sublimity ; he attempted no flights of lofty or 
splendid imagination; he was decidedly limited in his 
range of subjects, of ideas, and of poetic methods. Such 
limitations as these seem almost if not quite fatal to great 
poetry; but in spite of all limitations that can justly be 
made, the fact still remains that Pope was a poet of really 
high rank. He reached this goal by virtue of superb tal- 
ent and training. For once, at least, a poet was made 
rather than born. He had, of course, many positive gifts 
Pope's ^^^^ helped to make good the deficiencies that 

Genius have been noted. Foremost among these was 

his exquisite sense for finish and beauty of expression. 
His poems display refinement of style, perfection of metre, 
harmony and proportion of artistic structure. His natural 
taste and his acquired training enabled him to give to his 
poetry all the advantages that careful art and well-directed 
effort could supply. In form, he is characterized by clear- 
ness and grace and fluency. Beyond the mere matter of 
form, he has also many positive and admirable qualities. 
His imagination may be lacking in the highest and noblest 
attributes, but it at least possesses in no common degree 
the virtues of lucidity and precision. The vividness and 
brilliancy of his pictures can hardly be surpassed. The 
sprightliness and versatility of his fancy light up many a 
fine passage and play over the surface of all his work. 
He possessed a keen and active mind, and seemed always 
intellectually alert. His sparkling and incisive wit made 
him one of the greatest of satirists. He was less just than 
Dryden, less powerful than Swift, less amiable than Addi- 
son — often bitter, often personal, often cruel; but his 
rapier blade was as swift as lightning and as sharp as a 



THE AGE OF POPE (i 700-1 740) 217 

needle. Not seldom it had a drop of venom upon the 
point. There are in Pope faint glimmerings of a love for 
nature and even for the romantic. His sensitive tempera- 
ment felt already the coming of influences that were to 
shape and change poetry after his death ; but in the main 
his interests were those of a classical age, and his influ- 
ence was almost exclusively in classical directions. He is 
the most striking example in Enghsh literature of 
what can be achieved in poetry by Hterary skill and 
adaptability coupled with literary knowledge and dis- 
cipline. 

Perhaps the most instructive classification of Pope's 
works is that which is based on their subject-matter. One 
of the earliest of his great poems was the Essay on Criti- 
cism, It has no great critical originality, and the Literary 
subject is not an especially fortunate one for Criticism 
poetical purposes ; but Pope's literary skill was equal to 
the production from even such material of a work which 
really deserves the name of a true poem. As a brilliant 
statement in pointed and epigrammatic verse of the essen- 
tial principles of Classicisim in literary art, it comes near 
to perfection. Better than any other of his works, it illus- 
trates Pope's interest in the subject of literary criticism and 
his delight in the discussion of literary questions. 

He is interested also, like the great prose-writers, in the 
life and society of his age. Out of this interest grew The 
Rape of the Lock. It is one of the most exqui- Life and 
site productions of light satiric fancy that has Society 
ever been penned. The gay belles, the frivolous courtiers, 
the fairy sylphs who guard the adornments of beauty, the 
stealing of the lock of hair by the fond swain, the terrible 
indignation and commotion, the efforts to appease the 
wrath and dry the tears of the despoiled lady — all make 
up a picture which charms the fancy, which appeals to the 
sense of humor, and which reflects as in a magic mirror 



2l8 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

the fashionable society that gathered about the court of 
Queen Anne. 

Pope's sHght tendency toward romanticism is seen in 
Romance and his imitations of Chaucer and in his Eloisa and 
Nature Abe lard. His Hmited and somewhat conven- 

tional interest in nature appears in his Windsor Forest. 
These, however, were but subordinate and transient phases 
of his genius. Much more characteristic both of the man 
and the age was his interest in the ancient classics. Pope 
was by no means a good Greek scholar ; yet several of his 
best years near the middle period of his life were devoted 
to the translation of the Iliad and the Odyssey of Homer. 
Classical '^^^ former was the more successful of the two, 
Translation and has always held its place as one of the not- 
able poems of the eighteenth century. Though it does 
not reproduce either the sense or the spirit of Homer, it is 
in many ways a remarkable achievement. It is the aston- 
ishingly clever and finished production of a superb literary 
craftsman rather than the work of a scholar or of a born 
poet. Perhaps nowhere does Pope display to better advan- 
tage his consummate mastery of versification and expres- 
sion. 

Nothing is more characteristic of Pope's peculiar genius 
than his skill as a satirist. This satirical power is mani- 
fested almost everywhere in his original work ; but it is 
especially represented by the Dunciad, or epic 
of the dunces. This is an extended satire on 
the prominent men of the age who had had the misfortune 
to incur the poet's dislike. Some were mere pedants, but 
others were genuine scholars ; some were poor scribblers, 
but others were among the best men and writers of the 
day. All were alike to Pope, if he had any grudge to pay. 
It is this personal bitterness that sets the most decided limi- 
tations to the greatness of the work, and prevents it from ris- 
ing to that largeness of view and that broadly human quality 



THE AGE OF POPE (1700-1740) 219 

which exalt keen satire into universal literature. The Dun- 
ciad is in some respects Pope's masterpiece, his most typical 
and representative work ; but to the impartial reader of 
another age, it must yield the palm for perennial interest 
to The Rape of the Lock. The latter is as light as a bubble 
floating in the air ; but its iridescent beauty is as imper- 
ishable as the diamond, because its transient and insignificant 
theme has been lifted above the interests of a day or a class 
and has been immortalized by the idealizing power of 
the poetic imagination. Pope wrote many shorter sat- 
ires, of which the Epistle to Dr. ArbutJinot perhaps gives 
the finest example of his concentrated power. It is here 
that he satirizes and at the same time praises Addison 
under the name of Atticus. 

Pope's last great interest was that in philosophical 
speculation. His typical poems in this direction are his 
Moral Epistles and his Essay oji Alan. The Moral 
latter ranks among his masterpieces. It is not Pi^iiosophy 
great or original philosophy, nor did Pope have the 
power of a strong philosophical thinker. It is hardly to 
be called, as a whole, a great poem ; but as a series of fine 
passages, as a collection of pointed aphorisms, all connected 
with the central theme, it is unsurpassed among Pope's 
writings. Scarcely anything that he has done is more 
characteristic of the man or of his age. 

Any discussion of Pope as a poet would certainly be 
incomplete without some mention of his mastery of the 
heroic couplet. This form — iambic pentameter ^j^g Heroic 
lines rhymed in pairs — was the favorite of the Couplet 
classical school of poets, and for a time seemed to have 
the field almost to itself. Pope polished and refined the 
couplet to the last degree, and in his hands it became an 
almost perfect instrument for the expression of pointed 
aphorism and brilliant wit. It was the use of this instru- 
ment that enabled Pope to display to the best advantage 



220 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

his naturally fine gift for terse and epigrammatic utterance. 
No English poet, with the possible exception of Shake- 
speare, has said more quotable and rememberable things. 
Such, for instance, are the following : 

Honour and shame from no condition rise ; 
Act well your part, there all the honour lies. 

Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, 

As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. 

A consideration of Pope's poetry helps to confirm and to 
explain our sense of his almost unlimited influence in his 
Pope's own day. Perhaps it will also help us to un- 

influence dcrstand why that influence was so short-lived. 
His direct influence, at least, was very brief ; for in him 
Classicism reached its culmination, and reaction set in even 
before his own death. Yet indirectly his influence has been 
felt even down to our own time. Later poets, greater 
in passion and in originality, have learned from him the 
value of artistic form. This influence has, of course, been 
greatly modified by later movements ; but properly sub- 
ordinated to real poetic genius, it has constituted an 
invaluable legacy to English literature. 




Pope's Villa at Twickenham 
From an old print 




c)Cc/W\\ %(fVk\Juvx 



CHAPTER XII 

THE AGE OF JOHNSON (i 740-1 780) 

From a consideration of the literary achievement of the 
Age of Dryden and the Age of Pope, it ought to be suffi- 
ciently clear that Classicism was a living movement, arising 
naturally by reaction from an exhausted Romanticism, find- 
ing a proper place in the development of English life and 
thought, fulfilling a great mission and leaving behind it 
great results. The hopes and expectations of its promoters 
were high and sanguine, and they were in fair measure 
realized, although its literary product has not quite main- 
tained the right to stand in the highest rank. Dryden and 
Pope were its great poets, and a company of great prose- 
writers helped to swell the large sum of its achievements. 
Yet Classicism ran but a comparatively brief career. 
Much as it really accomplished for English literature, it 
was by the very nature of the English character and 
genius destined to inferiority, sure sooner or later to be 
challenged and overthrown by other forces. The time for 
the challenge had now come, but not quite yet the time for 
the overthrow. Romanticism had prevailed in one form 
or another from the Norman Conquest to the Age of 
Dryden ; and after the Age of Pope, it was soon to make 
itself felt again. Even before the death of Pope, this and 
other new tendencies had begun to dispute with the old 
for the literary mastery. Yet the battle was not to be 
easily won. The influence of Classicism did not continuance 
cease in a moment ; and for at least another °^ classicism 
generation we must note the continuance of classical 



222 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

tendencies. Indeed, it was not until near the close 
of the eighteenth century that the conflict can be said 
to have been fully decided. Nowhere in the literature 
have we better illustration of the fact that literary periods 
overlap each other, that old influences persist with gradu- 
ally diminishing force, while newer tendencies are gather- 
ing the strength and momentum that are finally to make 
them prevail. In this case, the period of transition was a 
comparatively long one, and the struggle between the old 
and the new was unusually severe. In view of the fact that 
the classical type of literature survived throughout the 
period now under survey, it seems proper to speak of the 
period as a classical one and to designate it by the name 
of Samuel Johnson, the great classical figure of the age. 
In more precise terms, it was a period of transition and of 
conflict during which Classicism asserted itself with ever 
decreasing power against the newer movements. 

It probably did not yet appear to the men of that gen- 
eration what were really the tendencies by which they 
were being swept onward. Some things they saw clearly 
enough ; and still others are apparent to us as we study 
their work to-day, although it is not yet certain that we 
have reached a final interpretation of the age. It is clear 

that there was a definite, emphatic, and con- 
Revolt ' ^ ' 

against cias- scious rcvolt against the authority of Classicism 
sicism — ^ revolt continually growing in force and 

effectiveness. This, however, is merely negative ; and it 
is more important to ask what was the nature of the new 
impulses which reenforced the revolt against Classicism 
and which brought a fresh and more original spirit into 
literature. 

It has been common to call the new movement a revival 
of Romanticism and to attribute the various phenomena of 
literature to a romantic reaction struggling to make head- 
way against classical tradition. That there was a roman- 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 223 

tic movement is beyond question. It was probably more 
striking and more productive than any other ; and we shall 
see its influence manifested in many ways. The chief 
doubt is whether this interpretation is sufficiently deep and 
comprehensive to account for all the tendencies that litera- 
ture presents to us in the age. Incidentally, the question 
may be raised whether the romantic movement is properly 
to be called a mere " revival." No doubt there was much 
imitation of Elizabethan poets, much drawing of water 
from the wells of mediaeval romance. The new Romanti- 
cism, however, was in spirit something very dif- The New 
ferent from that of the Age of Shakespeare or ^^^^^^^^^^^ 
from that of the Middle Ages. The Romanticism of Shake- 
speare's day, for instance, had its sources in the spirit of 
wonder and enthusiasm created by the Renaissance. In 
that great awakening of the human mind, imagination was 
aroused to a tremendous activity, and men felt that the 
wildest dreams were justified by the boundless possibilities 
opening up before the human race. The eighteenth cen- 
tury was no such age of divine illusions, and its Romanti- 
cism is not to be accounted for in any such way. Other 
and original forces were at work ; and any imitation of the 
past that may have characterized the writers of this later 
time was but a temporary expedient until the new spirit 
should have found its own way and wrought out its own 
modes of utterance. Moreover, even when the outward 
form was an imitation, the inward spirit was often some- 
thing quite new and original. It does not seem sufficient, 
therefore, simply to say that there was a romantic move- 
ment, much less a romantic "revival." We must go deeper, 
and inquire what causes were then existing which had 
power to create the type of Romanticism peculiar to 
the eighteenth century, as the Renaissance had created 
the type of Romanticism peculiar to the sixteenth 
century. 



224 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

Before doing so, we should observe that Romanticism 
was not the only new movement of the age and therefore 
not the only new tendency to be accounted for. It is im- 
portant that we should note the other movements, in order 
Five Great ^^^^ ^^ ^^Y determine whether any of these 
Movements furnishcs the key to the situation or whether we 
must look for some underlying cause that serves to account 
for them all. Next in importance to Romanticism was the 
growing love for nature and the rise of a school of natural- 
istic poets. Both of these movements — the romantic and 
the naturalistic — the men of the age recognized. They 
did not, perhaps, so clearly perceive the growing emotion- 
alism of literature, though we may discover this tendency 
plainly enough in such works as the novels of Richardson, 
Sterne's Sentimental Journey^ and the writings of the so- 
called " sentimental poets." Still another tendency clearer 
to us than to the men of the eighteenth century was a grow- 
ing recognition of the worth of man as man — a recogni- 
tion of the value and importance of ordinary human beings. 
This tendency we may venture to describe, for lack of a bet- 
ter expression, as a manifestation of the democratic spirit ; 
it was not democracy, but it was one of the fruitful germs 
from which democracy was to grow. In literature, this 
spirit Hes at the basis of the modern novel and appears 
very distinctly in such poetry as Gray's Elegy and Gold- 
smith's Deserted Village. To these several movements, 
we may add the very noteworthy and important religious 
revival. Its direct influence upon literature was com- 
paratively small, appearing chiefly in such poetry as 
the hymns -of the Wesleys, Young's Night Thoughts^ 
and the much later works of Cowper; but its influence 
on English life was powerful and extensive, and this 
must have affected literature in many indirect but effec- 
tive ways. 

These five movements — the romantic, the naturalistic, 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 225 

the emotional, the so-called democratic, and the rehgious — 
are curiously intermingled in the literature of Relations of 
the asre ; but it does not quite seem as thouo:h these Move- 

° ^ ° ments 

any one of them could be regarded as central 
and fundamental and as serving to account for the others. 
Romanticism does not account for naturalism, or natural- 
ism for Romanticism. Emotionalism is not logically con- 
nected with either, though it is incidentally associated with 
both. The so-called democratic spirit has no necessary 
association with the romantic tendency, and can hardly be 
said to account for naturalism ; it was, moreover, the least 
definite and conscious of these movements and the one 
that seems most undeveloped and incidental. Later, it was 
to become more important ; but as yet it seems to find its 
best interpretation in something beyond itself. Nor does 
the religious movement afford a clue to the central literary 
impulse of the age. Powerful as the rehgious movement 
was, the age was not distinctively a religious one, and the 
influence of religion on literature was decidedly subordi- 
nate. 

Is there, then, any principle which gives to these several 
tendencies the unity of a single great literary movement ? 
As we consider the question, it becomes reason- , 

^ Interpretation 

ably clear that the newer Romanticism was at of these 

, . . . ^ T Movements 

bottom a passion for personal freedom, an un- 
conscious striving forward toward that revolutionary spirit 
which was to make itself so strongly felt during the later 
.years of the century. It was not so much an impulse to 
be romantic as it was an impulse to burst the bonds of 
classic restriction, to follow the instinct of individual gen- 
ius, to be anything and everything that the Age of Pope 
had not been. Poetry turned to the study of nature under 
much the same impulse. There was no great passion for 
nature as such ; but there was a strong desire to get away 
from the town, to escape the conventions and artificialities 



226 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

of life, to breathe free air, to be one's self in the midst of 
natural surroundings. Emotionalism, likewise, was an as- 
sertion of freedom for personal feeling. The writers of 
the age did not feel themselves driven to the inevitable 
utterance of passion that could not be suppressed ; indeed, 
the application of the term ''sentimental" to some of the 
leading poets impUes a forced and rather self-conscious 
expression of emotion as a sort of poetic declaration of 
independence. The sense of the worth of the common 
man finds in this same spirit of personal freedom its bond 
of union with the other great tendencies of the time. 
Personal freedom of feeling and expression for all men in- 
volved sooner or later the recognition of the personal worth 
of all men. Closely allied with this same spirit was the 
religious movement. On the one side, it was a vigorous 
protest against mere conformity, authority, and formalism 
in religion ; on the other, it was a profound sense of the 
eternal worth of every individual soul, because for that 
soul Christ had died and God's infinite love had thereby 
been made manifest. 

In a word, the new force was more than anything else 

the force of Individualism. It was so powerful an enemy 

of Classicism because the two are essentially 

Individualism . . , . „, . . , , 

opposite m their nature. Classicism leads to 
the exaltation of authority, of conformity, of obedience to 
rule ; IndividuaHsm asserts the rights of personality against 
tradition, convention, and established order. If Romanti- 
cism was so prominent in poetry, it is because Romanticism 
offered the readiest poetic way for the assertion of In- 
dividualism. Even imitation of mediaevalism or of the 
Renaissance was in the nature of a revolt, because it was 
imitation of that which Classicism had assumed to condemn 
as being too lawless and too free. In prose, the novel, with 
its realistic study of ordinary men and women, proved to 
be the best way of expressing the same individualistic 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 22/ 

spirit. Romantic poem and realistic novel would appear 
to be at opposite literary extremes ; but we have here the 
interesting and rather curious literary phenomenon of two 
radically different results proceeding from the same great 
principle of IndividuaHsm. This individualistic impulse is 
even more emphatically apparent in the historic life of the 
age than it is in literature ; for literature is after all but an 
incomplete expression of life, and lays most emphasis upon 
those phases of Hfe which are best suited to literary utter- 
ance. Yet even in literature — and in literature outside of 
the novel — the note of IndividuaHsm is clear. As early 
as the first generation of the century, even Pope felt the 
coming of the new spirit sufficiently to say : 

An honest man's the noblest work of God. 

At the end of the century there rings out, with the 

strength of full conviction and of poetic fervor, a voice 

crying : 

A man's a man, for a' that. 

Between these two positions lies the Age of Johnson ; 
and through its poetry and prose we may trace the prog- 
ress of the individualistic impulse, from the first faint rec- 
ognition of the classical Pope to the strong assertion of 
the democratic Burns. The literary history of the period 
reflects the losing struggle of a confident and dominant 
Classicism against this revolutionary force of Individual- 
ism. That new force does not gain its full triumph in 
the present period ; but it attains such a development 
as to make it the ruling impulse of the age which 
follows. 

The first aspect of the new movement to appear prom- 
inently in literature was the poetic treatment of nature. 
We have previously noted that Pope, in his james 
Windsor Forest, had made a faint and rather con- Thomson 
ventional beginning in this direction ; and the example 



228 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

had not been without its influence on other poets. Long 
before Pope had ceased to write, James Thomson had 
published his Seasons^ the poem which better than any 
other marks the real beginning of the naturalistic ten- 
dency. It is not without significance that Thomson was 
a Scotchman. Already, as early as the fifteenth century, 
we have had occasion to observe the love for nature 
appearing in Scotch poetry, when that of England was 
almost devoid of any such inclination ; and we may say 
further that Scotch influence upon English nature poetry 
has always been strongly marked and was particularly so 
during the eighteenth century. The Seasons is divided into 
four parts, entitled respectively " Spring," " Summer," 
"Autumn," and "Winter." Thomson treats the various 
aspects of the year with much poetic feeling, direct observa- 
tion of nature, and power of natural description. There are 
a stilted utterance and a tendency to abstract moralizing 
which betray the classical influences under which Thomson 
wrote ; but there are also a freshness and an originality 
which give large promise of what is to come. The blank- 
verse form of the poem is not the least of its manifestations 
of a new literary spirit. Blank verse was to be the badge 
of the younger school of poets as the heroic couplet had 
been the badge of the poets of the classical school. Another 
noteworthy poem of Thomson's allies him closely with 
the beginnings of the romantic movement. This is The 
Castle of Indolence, a professed and remarkably successful 
imitation of Spenser's Faerie Queene. He uses the Spen- 
serian stanza with much metrical skill and catches not 
a little of Spenser's poetic and romantic quality. In spite 
of the fact that the poem is an imitation in the matter of 
form and quality, it is sufficiently original in idea to make 
it a real contribution to English poetry as well as to the 
romantic verse of the period. When such a poem had 
been written, the romantic movement was certainly under 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 229 

full headway. It is significant for the movement also that 
Thomson's poem was only one of a large number of Spen- 
serian imitations by many writers. 

Edward Young was rather a disciple of Milton than 
of Spenser; but he falls far short of Thomson's genu- 
ine success in reproducing the tone and spirit E^^ard 
of his master. Certain more or less ineffec- "^°"°g 
tual tragedies, satires, and didactic poems constitute the 
larger number of Young's works ; but his one really 
famous poem is the NigJit Thoughts. It is a long 
didactic poem in nine books, in which a spirit of sen- 
timental melancholy broods over the vanity of human 
life, the consolations of religion, and the gloom of death. 
The rather portentous work contains a good deal of solemn 
rhetoric and not a little noble poetry. Its tone is char- 
acteristic of the age ; for the romantic spirit was in 
love with mystery and gloom, and the growing emo- 
tionalism was inclined to indulge itself in tender and 
awful sentiments. Such indulgence was one of the 
accepted modes of revolt against the common sense 
and the commonplace of the classical period. 

The influence of Milton is also discernible in the work 
of William Collins, but it is the influence of Milton's lyrics 
— of U Allegro and // Penseivso — rather than of his great 
epics. Here, at last, pure poetry is recovered ; for the 
lyric music of Collins is the sweetest and most wniiam 
spontaneous to be found in the whole extent ^° 
of the classical period — between Milton and Burns. The 
classic note is still heard, as notably in his Ode to tJie 
Passions ; but there is also heard something that is 
new and strange. The Ode to Evening goes beyond 
the mere natural description of Thomson's Seasons and 
conveys by most subtle suggestion the feeling of the 
twiUght hour. It is the sentiment of nature that we 
catch and fix as we read such words as these : 



230 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires ; 
And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all 

Thy dewy fingers draw 

The gradual dusky veil. 

The Ode on the Popular Siipei^stitions of the Highla7ids 
of Scotland is a remarkable illustration of the romantic 
love for the mysterious, the supernatural, the legendary, 
and the fanciful; and it connects Collins with the roman- 
tic movement as the Ode to Evening connects him with 
the poetical treatment of nature. The emotional element 
in his poetry associates him with the poets whom Classi- 
cism sneered at as ''sentimental." By his Ode to Liberty 
he gains at least an indirect association with the so-called 
democratic tendency. He is thus seen to be in touch with 
nearly all the great movements of his age, and he fuses 
them all together into poetry that has the mark of a pe- 
culiar individuahsm. 

Doubtless the greatest poet of the age was Thomas 

Gray. Like Collins, he feels the influence of Milton, 

and more especially of Milton's lyric poetry. 

Thomas Gray ^ ., ^ ^,. ^ \ .,, . ^ 

Like Lollms, too, he illustrates in one way 
or another the various influences of his time. The 
love of nature permeates most of his poetry and per- 
haps still more his remarkable letters. It is clearly in 
evidence in his Ode on the Spring and his Ode on a Dis- 
ta7tt Prospect of Eton College. The romantic movement 
is perhaps best illustrated by his Pindaric ode. The Bard, 
in which an ancient Welsh minstrel, seated on a crag of 
the mountains, sings in prophetic vision the doom of King 
Edward's race. His best-known work is the Elegy writ- 
ten in a Country CJinrchyard. Here he displays his love 
for nature, his depth of sentiment, and that sympathy 
with common men which we have called democratic. 
Few poems in the language have been better known or 
more often read. Gray's other Pindaric ode, The Prog- 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 23 1 

ress of Poesy, finely illustrates the union in him of Clas- 
sicism and Individualism. It has many characteristics 
of the classical manner ; but it rises to a higher poetic 
quality by virtue of more spontaneous feeling, more vivid 
imagination, and greater freedom in conception. Much the 
same is true of all his poetry. It unites a high degree of 
classical refinement and art with many of the qualities 
which spring from the work of spontaneous genius moving 
with great individual freedom. Gray had the trained skill 
of a careful literary workman, but he also had the genius of 
a born poet. His was a really important personality ; but 
the individualistic qualities in his work did not exactly arise 
from the vigorous activity of a masterful and uncontrollable 
nature. Gray, indeed, was far from being a man of that 
type. In him and in the other poets just discussed, the 
strong individualistic tone was largely due to the fact that 
the whole age was in revolt and was encouraging its men 
of genius to seek and to follow new ways. A generation 
earlier, probably no one of them would have had the strength 
to lead the new movement. Their actual originality was 
due even more to the age than to themselves. This gave 
to their efforts something of artificiality and self-conscious- 
ness ; for they were not as men self-impelled by a strong 
instinct, but rather as men who had heard and deliberately 
answered a call. 

Such a condition of affairs was not conducive to the best 
and fullest work, although it was not without its advan- 
tages to men of limited powers. For Gray, at 
least, the age involved repression as well as en- the Age on 
couragement. He has generally been regarded 
as a poet of unusually fine genius fallen upon a time which 
tended to check and to deaden his poetic impulses. This 
conception of the man is probably a true one ; and it is not 
difficult to see at least two ways in which the age may have 
produced this effect upon its greatest poet. In the first 



232 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

place, it was still in very large measure a classical age, 
while Gray's finest poetic instincts were more imaginative 
and emotional. Strong as the individualistic tendencies 
of the age were, they were not strong enough to free him 
from the sense of restraint which Classicism imposed; 
and as we have already suggested, the native force of 
Gray's personality was not quite adequate to such a revolt. 
Indeed, Gray was by nature too conscientious an artist not 
to feel the full weight of the critical principles with which 
Classicism sought to fetter the wings of genius. In the 
second place, the age, like the two preceding periods, was 
essentially prosaic in its temper, while Gray's gifts were 
those of the poet. Feeling the chill discouragement of an 
alien atmosphere, he withdrew into himself and allowed 
the world to hear all too little of that exquisite music 
which he was born to make. He contented himself with 
a few poems classically perfect in expression and giving 
evidence of a genius which in its fullest exercise might 
have placed him among the very greatest of English poets. 
As it is, probably no English poet holds so high a place 
as he by virtue of so small a body of poetic work. 

Certain publications of the time must be considered be- 
cause of the important influence which they exerted on 
contemporary literature rather than because they them- 
selves possessed any great degree of original value. In 
Percy's ^7^5 Thomas Percy published a great number 

ReUques of old ballads which he had collected and edited. 
The work is known as Percy's Reliques of Ancient English 
Poetry. A few years later, he translated Mallet's Northern 
Antiquities, a work dealing with the Norse mythology. 
Both of these appealed very strongly to those who were in 
sympathy with the anti-classical spirit. They encouraged 
and justified the new romantic movement, and provided 
materials and inspiration for the romantic poets. Some- 
thing the same may be said of James Macpherson's pre- 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 233 

tended translation of Ossian, a supposed Gaelic poet of the 
third century. It was probably in large part a forgery ; 
but it contained some real poetry, wild and ^ . 

^ •' ' Ossian 

weird in conception, passionate in feeling, and 
highly figurative in style. The most assured fact about 
the book is its powerful influence. Gray seems to have 
been much interested in it, as he was also in the legends 
of the Norse mythology. These and other books illustrate 
the growing spirit of Romanticism and show how eager 
men were for anything that would appeal to romantic 
sentiment. 

Another name which has certain points of association 
with those just mentioned, and which, like them, is forever 
linked with the history of the romantic movement, is that 
of Thomas Chatterton. This " marvellous boy," xhomas 
as Wordsworth called him, began his literary chatterton 
career at twelve years of age with poems and prose pieces 
which he pretended to have found in the muniment room 
of the old church of St. Mary RedcUffe at Bristol. During 
his brief career, he produced a considerable number of 
poems displaying much poetic beauty, love of nature, ro- 
mantic spirit, and lyric feeling. They were written in an 
imitation of the English of the early fifteenth century, 
and for a time deceived some good scholars. Though 
now known to be Chatterton's own work, they still retain 
interest by virtue of their inherent merits. Indeed, their 
importance is heightened by our knowledge of the fact 
that poems of such excellence were written by one who at 
the time of his death was little more than a child. Chat- 
terton may be called, if we are disposed to harshness, a 
literary forger. Considering his age, it is at least more 
charitable and probably quite as near the truth to attribute 
his methods to an inborn poetic and dramatic faculty exer- 
cised by one too young to appreciate the moral bearings of 
his deceit — a faculty, moreover, so strong as probably to 



234 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

create in the boy's own mind an illusion of the essential 
reality of his poetic dreams. In any case, no one can 
deny that he was a true poet and that his achievement 
was simply astounding for one so young. Chatterton con- 
tinued his work for several years at his home in Bristol, 
making various attempts to attract the interest of prom- 
inent men, and then went to try his literary fortunes in the 
metropolis. After a proud struggle with bitter poverty 
and disappointed ambition, he committed suicide in a 
London garret at the age of seventeen years and nine 
months. Truly he deserves to rank among those whom 
Shelley calls 

The inheritors of unfulfilled renown. 

Our review of poetical work has carried us well through 
the period. Reserving for the present a discussion of the 
poetry of Johnson and Goldsmith, we must now return to 
the beginning of the age to trace the development of a 
new form of literature — the modern novel. The novel 
is essentially a combination of a narrative plot with a uni- 
fied and consistent picture of human life and character. 
From another point of view, it may be called a combina- 
Forerunners ^ion of prosc romaucc and drama ; for the prose 
of the Novel romaucc lays chief stress upon pure narrative, 
while the interest of drama centres in the treatment of 
humanity. The novel differs from the romance in aiming 
at a more or less realistic portrayal of life ; it differs from 
the drama in presenting that life through the medium of 
a story rather than upon the stage. Both of these proto- 
types of the novel — romance and drama — were already 
fully developed. The romance, illustrated by such works 
as Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress^ Swift's Gulliver's Travels, 
and Defoe's Robi^ison Crusoe, had brought merely narra- 
tive fiction to its perfection. The great dramatists — 
whose name is legion — had also fully demonstrated what 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 235 

could be done in the portrayal of life and character. It 
remained only for some one to unite the treatment of real 
life with the direct narrative method of presentation in 
order to produce the novel. Addison and Steele, in the 
Sir Roger de Cover ley Papers, had taken a step in the right 
direction by presenting admirable character-sketches in 
prose ; but in their work the plot was still lacking. Rob- 
inso7i Crusoe had made another decided contribution by" 
giving the finest illustration of realistic method in story- 
telling, but without a broad treatment of life and char- 
acter. All the elements were ready; and prose style, 
moreover, had been fully prepared to serve as the fit 
instrument of expression. Everything awaited the original 
genius or the happy chance that should bring the ele- 
ments into combination and so create the second new 
literary type produced by the eighteenth century. 

The man was already there, and the happy chance 
soon came. Samuel Richardson was a prosperous printer 
who had already reached the age of fifty with- samuei 
out being known to fame when his epoch- ^^<=^a'"'^son 
making work was produced. His preparation for his 
great accomplishment was as fortunate as it was unique. 
In his earlier days, he had associated much with women, 
for some of whom he had been called upon to employ his 
literary skill in the writing of love-letters. The knowledge 
of the feminine heart and the practice in letter-writing 
thus gained were to stand him in good stead. In attempt- 
ing to compile a sort of model letter-writer at the request 
of a London firm of pubhshers, he hit upon the happy 
idea of connecting the letters by the thread of a story, 
and thus almost by accident produced in 1740 the first 
English novel — Pamela. It is the story of a young 
woman, Pamela Andrews, whose virtue successfully re- 
sisted the strongest temptation and who was finally 
rewarded by a happy marriage with her tempter. The 



236 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

moral is not altogether agreeable and may perhaps serve 
as an illustration of the prevailing standards of the age. 
Eight years later, Richardson published his masterpiece, 
Clarissa Harlowe. Its theme is somewhat the same as 
that of Pamela, but Clarissa maintains a higher standard 
of virtue and persists in her refusal of the villain Lovelace 
even to her own pathetic death. His third and last work 
was the History of Sir Charles Grandison — "the character 
and actions of a man of true honour." All of his stories 
are told through the medium of a series of letters written 
by the principal characters. The method has its disad- 
vantages, but it enables the author to reveal the characters 
and their motives directly through themselves rather than 
by description or explanation from without. In spite of 
all disadvantages, the novels were extremely popular and 
created a great sensation in their own day. Richardson 
was a man of great seriousness and simplicity, somewhat 
sentimental and nervous, moral in ideals and conduct. 
Naturally enough, he is the novelist of sentiment, of 
pathos, of professed morality. His insight into female 
character is accompanied by a power of delicate and 
subtle analysis and a marvelous command over the gentler 
emotions. He is classical in his realism ; but his sen- 
timent and his appreciation of ordinary character ally 
him also with the individualistic movement. With roman- 
tic and naturaUstic tendencies, he has not much direct 
connection. 

Henry Fielding began his literary career as a dramatist, 
but his work in that direction is of slight Uterary value, 
gg^^ It doubtless helped to give him preparation for 

Fielding j^js later work by broadening his observation 
of life and training his skill in the portrayal of character. 
His first novel y^diS Joseph A 7idrews, published in 1742. 
It was begun as a parody of Richardson's Pamela. The 
story represents Pamela's brother Joseph, a virtuous young 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 237 

man, resisting female allurements. Fielding soon came 
to a realization of his own powers and opportunities, grew 
interested in his characters for their own sake, dropped 
the mere parody, and finished the story in his own way. 
This first attempt was soon followed by Mr. Jonathan 
Wild the Great ; and some years later, he wrote his mas- 
terpiece, Tom Jo7ies^ " the history of a foundling." This 
is the greatest novel of the eighteenth century and one of 
the greatest in the literature. At times extremely coarse, 
it is, nevertheless, a most graphic portrayal of human life, 
full of vivid reaHsm and broad humor. His last novel, 
Amelia, was pubHshed in 175 1. In all his works he pur- 
sues the method of direct narration, but is much given to 
episodes. Fielding was a strong and manly figure, a man 
of many faults, but of an essentially sound nature. He 
was powerful in intellect and energetic in character. In 
these and other ways he was a strong contrast to Richard- 
son, and the contrast is naturally extended to the work of 
the two men. Fielding's best insight was into the char- 
acters of men, while he had comparatively little success 
in the treatment of women. In power of vivid and life- 
like portrayal, few novelists have been his equals. His 
characters are intensely human, full of his own abound- 
ing vitality and energy. The Hfe that he portrays is 
undeniably coarse, and not seldom brutal ; but his works 
are saved from the lowest depths by their humor and 
geniality. His realism and his gift for satire show the 
influence of classical ideals, but he is anything but 
formal and conventional. He displays the newer spirit 
chiefly by his sympathy with all sorts and conditions of 
men. He loves life and he portrays it with an unprej- 
udiced impartiality. Vehement in feeling and full of 
warm human emotion, he has a ready scorn for that 
sentimentalism which seemed to him to verge on hypoc- 
risy. Such work as his is great in itself and gives 



238 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

fullest promise of the large achievements that were to 
be made in the new form of literature which he helped 
to create. 

The third of the great novelists who began the early- 
history of the novel was Tobias Smollett. In his hands, 
Tobias ^^^ ^^^ ^YP^ ^^^ broadened in range, but did 

SmoUett not display any increase in artistic skill. He 
may be briefly described as the novelist of wild adven- 
ture, of satire, and of cynicism. The experiences of his 
varied and adventurous life provided him with abundant 
materials for his novels. He was not a man of great 
original imagination, and shows the ability to reproduce 
rather than to invent. Like the other novelists, he was 
realistic ; but his reahsm is more superficial, and is 
mingled with very improbable incidents. His characters 
are exaggerated and violent, and most of his heroes are 
of the same wild and vulgar type. Five novels stand 
to his account, and any one will give a fair idea of the 
rest. Their names are suggestive of their character : 
Roderick Random^ Peregrine Pickle, Ferdinand Count 
Fathom, Sir Launcelot Greaves, and Humphrey Clinker. 
The last is the best, and well illustrates Smollett's humor 
and vigorous movement. 

The period is notable for a series of separate master- 
pieces which still further illustrate the early development 
Laurence ^^ ^^^ novcl. One of the best of these is 
Sterne Stcme's Tristram Shandy, a work character- 

ized by a most rambling plot, but by extremely lifelike 
characters. In addition to his singular powers in the 
matter of character-portrayal, Sterne had a fine gift of 
deHcate humor and an exquisite style. His indulgence in 
sentimentalism is symbolized by his Sentimental Journey y 
a mixture of travel and fiction. This work, especially, 
marks his connection with the newer movement and his 
natural antipathy to the temper of Classicism. Sterne 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 239 

was a preacher, and some of his finest passages are to be 
found in his Sermons. A very different sort of man and 
writer was Dr. Samuel Johnson, who made a contribu- 
tion to prose fiction in the philosophical and Johnson's 
didactic story called Rasselas. It is thoroughly i^asseias 
characteristic of the great thinker and moralist and clas- 
sicist, but is not very interesting, either for its plot or for 
its characters. The type is rather that of the romance 
than of the novel. Horace Walpole's Castle of Waipoie's 
Otranto is also extremely romantic and has the otranto 
interest of having anticipated Scott in the field of mediae- 
val fiction. A number of similar works were written be- 
fore the close of the century, but they hardly call for 
notice in a brief survey. It is at least interesting to note 
that the novel began in realism, but that it was caught by 
the new currents and swept in the direction of Romanti- 
cism. Not the least singular fact about this movement is 
that Dr. Johnson, the extreme classicist of the age, should 
have been an unconscious contributor. Rasselas is in 
the main a classical book, but the element of romanticism 
is there. The last and in many respects the Q^i^jgnjitij, 
best work that need engage attention here is vicar of 
Oliver Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. The 
plot has been often and justly criticised, but the work has 
many virtues to redeem this chief defect. It may be 
called a romantic novel of the pastoral type, and deserves 
its fame as a great and original work of genius. Its 
crowning excellence is to be found in its simple but mas- 
terly portrayal of lifelike characters. Goldsmith was one 
of the gentlest, sweetest, and most natural of men, and he 
has succeeded in infusing his own delightful personal 
qualities into his work. For sweet simphcity, charming 
humor, and graceful style, the eighteenth century has no 
better book. 

Practically all of the authors thus far discussed felt to a 



240 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

greater or less extent the influence of the classical ideas 
which still continued to assert their authority. In the 
main, however, most of these authors were in sympathy 
with the newer spirit and showed in their work the effect 
of the newer tendencies. Quite the contrary is true of 
Samuel Samucl Johnsou. He was a classicist of the 

Johnson classicists, and his works illustrate the contin- 
ued vitality of the classical movement. His theories were 
classical, his practice was classical, the whole weight of 
his conscious influence was exerted on the classical side. 
The call for something new, striking, and original met 
with no response in him. Largely by the force of his 
authority, the progress of the new movements was hin- 
dered and delayed, and Classicism was given a new lease 
His 01 si- ^^ ^^^^' -^^ preached law rather than freedom, 
cism conformity rather than encouragement of indi- 

viduality. He stands, therefore, as the typical representa- 
tive of Classicism in this age, the true successor of Dryden 
and Pope. Yet Johnson had an indirect and unconscious 
relation to the individualistic movement. He did so 
through the very strength of his own character. His 
was a powerful and imposing personality, a nature too 
large really to be bound by any merely conventional re- 
strictions. He beheved in literary law, he preached liter- 
ary law, and practised what he preached; but over and 
above any literary authority, he was really a law unto 
Hisindi- himself. His was a great individuaHty endeav- 
viduauty oring to find expression through classical chan- 
nels, and meeting with comparative failure because the 
channels were inadequate. He was original in spite of 
himself and of his critical theories. The man was much 
greater than his work. He lives for us not so much in 
what he produced as in Boswell's immortal biography. 
There we see and hear the man ; for he is there preserved 
to posterity as no other literary man has ever been pre- 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 241 

served. It is said that he talked great h'terature superbly 
for thirty years. This and Boswell's picture of the man 
help us to understand why he exerted so tremendous an 
influence in spite of such a meagre hterary 
product. His circle included some of the most 
able and distinguished men of the age ; but Johnson was 
the central and the dominant figure. With the public at 
large, his was the greatest literary reputation and the most 
potent literary influence of the time. 

It is necessary to speak here of Johnson as a poet ; yet 
in the history of poetry he fills but a small place. His 
most characteristic works are two satires in imita- , , „^ , 

Johnson s 

tion of Juvenal. In the first, entitled London, his Poetry 
attitude is that of the rebuker of vice and the censor of 
manners. In The Vanity of Httman Wishes, he is still the 
moralist; but his thought is more general and more 
philosophical. These poems contain noble and dignified 
passages, in harmony with Johnson's lofty character ; but 
we can hardly claim for him the genius of a great poet. 
The style is thoroughly classical, less brilliant than Pope's 
but more weighty. 

Johnson has already attracted our attention not only as 
a poet but as a writer of fiction. Rasselas, as we have 
noted, displays his characteristic qualities as a philosoph- 
ical moralist and as a classical writer, while at the same 
time it has a romantic element that illustrates his dispo- 
sition to leap the bounds of his own theories. As a 
general prose-writer, Johnson holds a much 
larger place ; for it was in this field that he Prose Writ- 
found his best literary expression. We have ^°^^ 
already implied that this expression was at best inadequate, 
and that the true greatness of the man never came to full 
expression at all. He was a great thinker, moralist, and 
critic ; he was still greater as a man ; but he did not 
possess in any remarkable degree the gifts of a great 



242 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

literary artist. What he accomplished in literature was 
achieved through competent literary knowledge and the 
force of an imposing personality rather than through great 
literary genius. As a poet and a novelist, he is far sur- 
passed by lesser men. Even as a miscellaneous prose- 
writer, he does not achieve the highest success. He was 
far inferior in purely literary genius, and not least in the 
genius for prose style, to Oliver Goldsmith, whom he 
petted, patronized, criticised, and buUied. Nevertheless, 
it is as a prose-writer that Johnson has his chief claim 
to literary honors. Like Goldsmith, he did much of his 
work as a hack writer. One of his greatest achievements 
was his famous Dictionary of the English Language, which, 
of course, has only an indirect association with pure litera- 
ture. The Rambler and The Idler were periodicals after 
the model of The Spectator ; but it need hardly be said 
that Johnson's periodical essays are far different in quality 
from those of Addison and Steele. They dealt in a pon- 
derous philosophical fashion with questions of morals, man- 
ners, and literary criticism. Among his later works two 
may be mentioned. A Journey to the Western Islands of 
Scotland XQCoxdiS a trip to the Highlands and the Hebrides 
in company with James Boswell, his biographer. It is 
interesting as displaying Johnson's thoroughly classical 
temper and his sHght sympathy with the grandeur of 
nature and with all that was wild, legendary, and romantic. 
We see here clearly enough that whatever association he 
had with the individualistic movement was an entirely 
unconscious one, due, not to his own natural inclinations, 
but to the fact that he himself was an intensely individual 
character. He could be more strongly individual in his 
conservatism than other men in their progressiveness. 
Probably the best and most characteristic work of his lit- 
erary career is to be found in his Lives of the English 
Poets, His style is there at its finest, and he displays in 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 243 

full measure his powers of philosophical criticism. The 
narrowness of his poetic sympathy, as well as the essential 
kindliness and generosity of his nature, is there apparent. 
Some of the very greatest of English poets find very inad- 
equate treatment, while his best work is bestowed on 
some of the poorest. He utters his critical opinions in a 
dictatorial and sometimes severe manner, but his nature 
was too honest ever to be consciously unjust. Where he 
fails, his failure is due to the limitations of his critical 
insight and to the limitations of the classical temper in 
dealing with work outside its range. It is to be added to 
his credit that his good sense and strong natural intelli- 
gence not seldom break the bonds of his cherished classical 
theories. 

Johnson's prose style is classic in its formality, in its 
elaboration, and in its abstract, intellectual quality ; but it 
is, nevertheless, the characteristic product of a Johnson's 
unique individual. Johnson is classical, but he style 
is classical in his own way. The style of the most typical 
classical prose-writers is clear, simple, polished, direct ; 
the style of Johnson is ponderous, periodic. Latinized, 
stately, sonorous. So individual is this style that its pe- 
culiar quality has come to be designated by the word 
" Johnsonese." In his later life, the simpler and more 
direct manner of his conversational style came to have 
much influence upon his writings ; and in his Lives of the 
Poets, he becomes a much better model of expression than 
in his earlier prose works. If he could only have written 
as he talked, he would have been a much greater master 
of prose style. His two manners have been often illus- 
trated by a famous example. He once said in conversa- 
tion, " The Rehearsal has not wit enough to keep it sweet." 
That is altogether admirable ; but the ponderous old scholar 
could not be content with anything so simple, so direct, so 
terse, and so forcible. His instinct for sounding phrase 



244 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

led him to translate it at once into typical " Johnsonese," 
'* It has not sufficient vitality to preserve it from putrefac- 
tion." The second form sounds almost like a parody of 
the first, but it is typical of Johnson's method. 

We have already emphasized the fact that Johnson was 
greater as a man than as a writer, greater in his inspired 
conversation than in his formal literary expression. The 
immortal proof of this is contained in Boswell's Life of 
BosweU's JoJinson, James Boswell was a Scotchman of 
Johnson good family and education ; but he made him- 
self the humble friend and follower of Johnson for a series 
of years, noting with patience and fidelity his words, his 
acts, and his peculiarities of character. In this unique 
fashion he gathered the materials that enabled him to 
create the greatest biography ever written. The portrait 
of Johnson is drawn at full length, and with an intimacy 
of knowledge that would have been impossible to any other 
than such a combination of toady and hero-worshipper as 
Boswell seems to have been. His success is so great be- 
cause. he was willing to lose himself in his subject. Here 
Johnson lives and talks forever for many to whom his 
written works are little more than a name. 

The conflict between Classicism and Individualism is no- 
where more marked than in Oliver Goldsmith. From all 
Oliver ^^^^ ^^ kuow of him, he seems to have had the 

Goldsmith genius and the instincts of a decidedly original 
poet ; and it is reasonable to suppose that he would have 
been much more nearly in harmony with the new move- 
ments if it had not been for external influences. His 
natural tendency in this direction, however, was restrained 
by the classical spirit that was still so strong in the age and 
more particularly by his close personal associa- 
tion with Dr. Johnson. The two representative 
poems of Goldsmith are The Traveller and The Deserted 
Village. The former reflects his experiences as a scholarly 



THE AGE OP^ JOHNSON (1740-1780) 245 

vagabond on the continent, and mingles beautiful poetic 
description with the didactic purpose of giving " a prospect 
of society." The poem well illustrates Goldsmith's roman- 
tic personaUty ; but it is, nevertheless, largely classical 
in style and in general conception. The Deserted Village 
bewails the decay of the peasantry, and describes the lovely 
village now forsaken by its former cheerful inhabitants. 
The pictures of the village preacher and the village school- 
master show Goldsmith at his best. He is a true poet, 
uniting vivid imagination with a fine sense of beauty, deli- 
cate and tender sentiment with an exquisite gift of humor. 
Here, as in The Traveller, he is classical in style and 
didactic in intention ; but he shows romantic feeling, is a 
genuine lover of nature, and by his unaffected sympathy 
with the poor and humble connects himself with the dem- 
ocratic tendency. Of the last, these lines from The De- 
serted Village are typical : 

Princes and lords may flourish or may fade ; 
A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; 
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 
When once destroyed can never be supplied. 

Goldsmith's charming prose fiction, The Vicar of Wake- 
field, has been already mentioned in connection with our 
discussion of the development of the novel. It 

-. , ^ . - , . ,. Goldsmith's 

is one of the very finest creations of his literary Prose 
genius, if not his masterpiece. In addition to "*'°^^ 
this and to his poems, he wrote a great amount of miscel- 
laneous prose, much of it the work of a hack writer labor- 
ing for his daily bread, but nearly all of it touched with 
the charm of his dehghtful style. For ease, for grace, and 
for deUcate humor, Goldsmith has no superior among the 
prose-writers of the century. His style has all the clas- 
sical virtues, but it has beyond these that inimitable magic 
which only genius can compass. While he does not pass 



246 , CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

beyond the legitimate bounds of prose, he conveys the im- 
pression that his nature was essentially that of a born poet. 
Among the products of his pen, we have periodical litera- 
ture, history, biography, natural science, learning, and 
politics ; but his most characteristic prose work outside 
of his single novel is to be found in his charming mis- 
cellaneous Essays. In this field of miscellaneous prose. 
Goldsmith produced no single work that is noteworthy 
as a product of artistic imagination. It is the style 
alone that makes it literature ; but for the sake of the 
style, it will continue to be read and cherished. As in the 
case of his novel. Goldsmith has known how to make his 
style express the personal qualities of one of the most lov- 
able men in English Hterature ; and for this reason, if for 
no other, it would still hold its charm. 

The versatility of Goldsmith's genius is well shown by 
the fact that he was a great poet, a great novelist, a great 
master of prose style, and — we may add — a great drama- 
Goidsmith's ^ist. In drama his work consists of two fa- 
Dramas mous comedies. The Good-Natured Man and She 
Stoops to Conq24er. The latter was probably the best 
comedy produced since the Restoration, surpassed in the 
eighteenth century by no other dramatic work save that of 
Sheridan. Far cleaner and healthier than any of the 
Restoration dramas, it is not less witty and far more 
good-natured. It is as bright, as gay, as humorous, as 
sweet as Goldsmith himself. 

The development of prose in the Age of Johnson is illus- 
trated by many names and by many varieties of writing. 
Especially by service in the fields of philosophy, history, 
and politics was it decidedly advanced and 

David Hume / 1 t^ • 1 tt 

broadened. Among philosophers, David Hume 
was probably the most eminent, both for style and for mat- 
ter. His philosophical views do not especially concern us 
here ; but his use of prose in philosophical discussion 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 247 

shows him to have been a man of considerable literary 
ability so far as concerns the mere matter of expression. 
His style is clear, hard, keen, and comparatively colorless. 
It was well adapted for his philosophical purpose. His 
History of England illustrates the use of his literary powers 
in another field. The greatest historian of the age, how- 
ever, was Edward Gibbon, author of The History Edward 
of the Decline mid Fall of the Roman Empire, ^^^''o" 
His historical task was a stupendous one ; his work covered 
some fourteen hundred years of history, ranging over the 
whole extent of the Roman Empire and even to the regions 
beyond. The great labor was accomplished with such 
patience, industry, and skill that his work has not yet been 
superseded. In his way Gibbon is a master of style. 
Classical, cold, and intellectual, he had yet a great histor- 
ical imagination, and his language moves with the stately 
pomp of a Roman triumph. Hume and Gibbon must suf- 
fice as representatives of a large company of miscellaneous 
writers. Beyond and above these, three men stand out as 
unquestionably greatest among the prose-writers of the 
age. Johnson and Goldsmith, we have already considered. 
The third and in many respects the greatest is Edmund 
Burke, philosophical thinker, maker if not writer of history, 
splendid master of political prose. 

Like all the great prose-writers of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, Burke strongly felt the influence of classical ten- 
dencies. Yet he was not a slave to them. Like Edmund 
Johnson, he was decidedly individual, and gave ^"""^^ 
to his style the coloring of his own habits of thought. 
There seems to have been a more or less conscious effort 
on the part of both these great writers to heighten and 
adorn in a more modern fashion the style which Clas- 
sicism had tended to make plain and simple. This was 
not in any sense a return to the poetic prose of the 
seventeenth century ; for these men heartily desired to 



248 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

retain all that Classicism had achieved for prose style. 
It was rather an effort to broaden the range and in- 
crease the impressiveness of style, without destroying any 
measure of its practical efficiency. Burke's method of 
doing this was far different from that of Johnson. He 
was a great rhetorician, a man of splendid imagination ; 
and his style often becomes gorgeous with imagery, rich 
and massy as cloth of gold. His literary methods were 
those of the orator ; for most of his productions were 
written to be spoken, and others felt the influence of his 
oratorical habits. Yet he was not an effective speaker. 
Contrary to the general rule in the case of great orators, 
he repelled his immediate hearers, but charmed those 
who read his speeches in print. Of all great orators, 
therefore, he probably holds the largest place in literature. 
Other men live in traditions as to the effect which their 
speeches produced, while for the reader of a later day 
the charm has largely gone out of their words. Burke 
continues to live in the actual literary vitality which his 
speeches still retain. It is as though he had talked over 
"^the heads of his living auditors and had spoken to pos- 
terity. All this is probably due in large measure to the 
fact that his peculiar gifts were in reality not so much 
those of the orator as those of the superb rhetorician. 

So far as the development of Burke's style is concerned, 
it seems to have reversed the usual order. Most men 
Burke's tend to be more emotional and ornate in their 
^*^^® earlier writings, and to become more intellec- 

tual and plain as they become more mature. There is 
doubtless a steady growth of intellectual power in Burke's 
work; but his earlier style is comparatively plain, while 
his most gorgeous passages occur in his later writings. 
This contrast is made still more emphatic by a considera- 
tion of his subject-matter. One of his earliest works was 
a treatise on the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and 



1 



THE AGE OF JOHNSON (1740-1780) 249 

Beautiful ; one of the most typical of his later works was 
his Letter to a Noble Lord. It is not a little surprising to 
find that the latter theme produced the richer and more 
imaginative style. Something of this difference is doubt- 
less due to the purposes of the various writings and the 
circumstances under which they were produced. A still 
further probable explanation is that Burke felt the repress- 
ing influences of Classicism more strongly in his younger 
days, and gave freer play to his own remarkable individ- 
uality as he grew older. The conditions of the age were 
favorable to such a development. The force of Classicism 
was growing ever less and less, the forces of Individualism 
were becoming ever more and more ; and Burke's life 
continued until 1797, into a time when the newer influ- 
ences had gained their complete triumph. 

Among Burke's most famous productions are those in 
which he deals with the misgovernment in India under 
Warren Hastings, with the French Revolution, Burke's 
and with the affairs of the American colonies. Genius 
In these and other works, he reveals himself as an orator, 
a statesman, a pohtical philosopher, and a. scholar. He 
united great literary ability with a powerful mind, an 
impressive personahty, a noble character, and a high devo- 
tion to truth and duty. His writings are splendid exam- 
ples of logical argument, exalted by poetic imagination, 
enriched by vast knowledge, inspired by intense earnest- 
ness, and clothed in a diction of surpassing power and 
beauty. Johnson was a great and typical Englishman 
in every fibre of his being ; Burke added to solid intel- 
lectual and moral qualities the imaginative fervor of his 
Irish nature. 

The drama of the eighteenth century was extensive, but 
very little of it has permanent literary or acting value. 
We have already noted the dramatic work of Addison and 
Steele in the early part of the century. Within the Age 



250 CLASSICISM (1660-1780) 

of Johnson several men already mentioned in other depart- 
ments of literature tried their hands at dramatic work. 
Thomson, the poet, wrote dramas which are now 

Eighteenth- ^ 

century all but forgottcn. Young produced a tragedy 
^^^^ called TAe Revenge. Johnson, who appears in 

all forms of Hterature, was the author of a cold and stately 
classical tragedy named Irene. Fielding wrote a number 
of comedies before he found his true vocation as a novelist, 
but none of them would have preserved his fame to pos- 
terity. Of the many minor dramatists there is no occasion 
to speak. Only two men. Goldsmith and Sheridan, pro- 
duced work which is of high literary quality and which still 
retains its interest upon the stage. Goldsmith's two come- 
dies, The Good-Natured Man and She Stoops to Conquer^ 
have already received due attention, and it only remains to 
speak briefly of the dramatic work of Sheridan. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan was, like Goldsmith and like 

Burke, an Irishman ; and he had all the Irish brilliancy 

and wit. He was one of the most famous orators 

Richard .... . • t» 1 • 1 • 

Brinsley of his time, far surpassing Burke m the imme- 
diate and striking character of his oratorical 
effects, but as far inferior to him in the permanent literary 
quality of his work. His literary fame rests almost exclu- 
sively upon his dramas. His famous comedy. The Rivals, 
was written in his twenty-fourth year, and The School for 
Scandal and The Critic within four years thereafter. 
Sheridan wrote other plays, but none that equal these 
three. These are sufficient to maintain his reputation as 
one of the most brilliant of English writers of comedy. 
Such names as Bob Acres, Mrs. Malaprop, Sir Peter and 
Lady Teazle, and Sir Fretful Plagiary are among the best 
known in English comic drama. They give evidence of 
Sheridan's skill in the creation of comic characters and of 
his masterful ease in witty and sparkling dialogue. 




Ni 



wrnj ~ 'p^e/"-^ 



BOOK V 

INDIVIDUALISM {1780-183 2) 

CHAPTER XIII 

THE AGE OF BURNS (i 780-1800) 

The Age of Johnson was an age of transition. Classi- 
cism continued to assert its authority and to influence the 
character of literary work ; but both its prestige and its 
power gradually declined before the growing strength of 
other forces. The Age of Burns was also in some sense 
an age of transition. The reign of Classicism, to be sure, 
was practically over, and only here and there did evidences 
remain that its rule had once been so exclusive and so 
potent. The reign of Individualism had clearly begun, 
with the prestige derived from a generation of character 
successful struggle. Yet this age was not to o^^^^-^ee 
witness the high tide of the individualistic movement, that 
display of its power which was to create the noblest body 
of English literature since the days of Shakespeare. This 
full manifestation of the power of Individualism in litera- 
ture was to come in the early years of the nineteenth 
century. In the meantime, the last twenty years of the 
eighteenth century were to constitute a period during 
which individualistic tendencies should be clearly domi- 
nant, and during which there should be a still further 
gathering up of strength for widespread and splendid 
literary achievement. It is in part such considerations 
as these that make it desirable to set this period off by 
itself as a distinct interval lying between the vastly differ- 
ent ages of Johnson and Wordsworth, partaking to some 

251 



252 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

extent of the character of each, and serving to bridge the 
gulf between them. The relation is in many ways analo- 
gous to that of the Age of Dryden, lying between the Age 
of Milton on the one hand and the Age of Pope on the 
other. Nor was the period lacking in a distinct literary 
quality of its own. Its note is not quite like that of any 
other time in our literary history. Its authors were men 
of distinct individuahty, and they produced work that is 
decidedly unique in character. 

The age, as we have implied, illustrates the growth of 
Individualism. This growth is mainly along the old lines, 
Growth of but it is accompanied by a considerable introduc- 
individuaUsm |--qj^ q£ ^^^ elements. Imagination becomes 
less imitative and more original ; expression becomes less 
perfunctory and more spontaneous. We have seen that 
the individualistic movement during the Age of Johnson 
had manifested itself chiefly in five different directions — 
in the direction of Romanticism, in the direction of a growing 
love for nature, in the direction of a freer expression of emo- 
tion, in the direction of a larger and deeper interest in the 
common man, and in the direction of religion. The Age 
of Burns marks advance in all of these ways, and makes it 
increasingly clear that all of these tendencies find their best 
explanation as manifestations of the individualistic spirit. 

Nowhere was progress more marked than in the poetic 
treatment of nature. The natural description of Thomson 
Love for Can hardly bear comparison with the fresh, un- 
Nature affcctcd, closcly obscrvant, and tenderly sympa- 

thetic treatment of Cowper. The sentiment of nature 
which Collins so charmingly conveys is conveyed by Blake 
with a subtler and stranger magic. Above all, the poetry 
of Robert Burns brings us into an intimate and living con- 
tact with the natural world to which there is no parallel in 
the literature of the eighteenth century and perhaps no 
parallel elsewhere. 



THE AGE OF BURNS (i 780-1 800) 253 

Romanticism in this period was partly imitative and 
partly original. The romance which found its inspira- 
tion in a ** Gothic " mediaevalism is illustrated in 

1 , _ , 1 , n 1.1 Romanticism 

the noveL On the other hand, a poem like 
Burns's Tarn O' S haute r suggested the unsuspected world 
of romance that may He hidden in the superstitions of a 
countryside and in the befuddled brain of a drunken 
peasant. In still another direction, the mystical fancy of 
Blake revealed romantic realms of which he alone was the 
creator. 

The emotionalism of the Age of Johnson, as we have 
seen, deserved to some extent the accusation of " senti- 
mentalism." The emotionalism of the present Emotional- 
period is not only stronger but more sincere. ^^^ 
The poets of this age express feeling not merely as a poetic 
duty but because the passion of their hearts will not be 
refused utterance. There is no more passionate poet than 
Robert Burns, and it is the intensity and sincerity of his 
feeling that gives to his lyric music such marvelous power 
over the human heart. 

On the side of rehgion there was no such marked move- 
ment as the Wesleyan revival, but the age was on the 
whole decidedly more religious. There was re- 

, . .^ , , . ReUgion 

action irom the scepticism so prevalent during 
the eighteenth century, while Methodism and other move- 
ments had done much to purify and elevate contemporary 
life. The religious spirit found expression in literature. 
No one who reads Cowper's poetry can doubt the sincerity 
and depth of his rehgious feeling. Blake was a religious 
mystic. Burns's Cotter's Satitrday Night and other poems 
reveal the true religious sentiment that lay beneath the 
surface of that wild and seemingly irreverent nature. It 
is typical of the age as well as of the man that Burns 
poured out his scornful ridicule only upon the religious 
profession that was false and hypocritical. 



254 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

Finally, the age was one which recognized as no other 
age had ever done the value and importance of the common 
Democratic ^^^- ^^^ French Revolution set up its motto 
Spirit of "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity'*; and by 

those ideas more than by any others the age was stirred. 
The standard of modern democracy had been raised ; and 
if democracy was not yet to triumph, its spirit was in the 
air presaging future victory. Of these ideas, Burns, of 
course, was the chief poetic voice. They run through all 
his poetry. In such words as these, they are gathered up 
into brief expression : 

Then let us pray that come it may, 

As come it will for a' that ; 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 
May bear the gree, and a' that ; 
For a' that, and a' that, 

It's coming yet, for a' that ; 

That man to man, the world o'er, 

Shall brothers be for a' that. 

Not only does Burns illustrate each of these separate 
tendencies ; he more than any other man illustrates the 
^ . fact that they iind their deepest explanation in 

Donunance ■' ir r 

of Individual- the intensely individualistic spirit of the age. 
Burns himself was a strong and vigorous person- 
ahty. He believed in the individual man and in his right 
to work out his destiny in his own fashion. In his poetry, 
he voiced the faith that the individual imagination should 
be free, to seek its own in the realms of romance or in the 
common ways of the actual world ; that the individual in- 
stinct should be free, to find its dehght in communion with 
nature or in fellowship with men; that the individual 
heart should be free, to cherish and to voice its deepest 
passions ; that the individual conscience should be free, to 
worship God according to its own dictates ; that the in- 



THE AGE OF BURNS (1780-1800) 255 

dividual man should be free, to find in righteous use of his 
freedom his own fullest development. His works and the 
works of the other great men who labored with him in his 
time afford large illustration of the fact that the dominant 
guiding impulse of literature in the age was the impulse 
of Individualism. 

The age was not one of the largest and fullest achieve- 
ment. Indeed, its literary product was comparatively 
limited, both in quantity and in range, although 
some of it was of a high order of excellence. Product of 
The fountains of great inspiration were not as *^® ^^® 
yet open to many men, but some few had drunk deep of 
the " Pierian spring." In only two departments of pure 
literature was any work accomphshed that calls for special 
mention here. Sheridan was still alive ; but neither he 
nor any one else was producing important dramatic work. 
In the field of great prose style, Burke continued to display 
his masterly powers until his death in 1797; but Burke 
belonged mainly to the Age of Johnson and has already 
been considered there. He had no compeer or worthy 
successor in the present period. In poetry alone was there 
any work of a really high order. Four poets — Cowper, 
Crabbe, Blake, and Burns — illustrate the age. They are 
of rather unequal importance ; but all of them, for one 
reason or another, will call for definite consideration. The 
progress of the novel, too, will demand brief notice ; for 
although no real masterpiece was produced, there was a 
development of fiction in the hands of many minor writers 
which forms a not uninteresting passage in the general his- 
tory of the novel. 

The modern novel began in realism — in the portrayal 
of contemporary life and character. Its develop- 

1 . 1 A r T 1 . 1 • The Novel 

ment during the Age of Johnson was mainly m 

the same direction, although there were, as we have seen, 

a few individual exceptions. The reaUstic type of fiction 



256 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

has not at any time since altogether ceased. Perhaps its 
best representative in the present period was Fanny Burney, 
afterward Madame D'Arblay. She was a sort of female 
Richardson, and her Evelina and Cecilia remind us not a 
little of his Clarissa Harlowe. By her faithfulness in tran- 
scribing ordinary life and character, she affords a faint 
anticipation of the work of Jane Austen in the next 
generation. Her novels are stories of love amid the en- 
vironment of polite society. This period also saw the 
development of an extremely romantic type of fiction. 
The prototype of the class was Walpole's Castle of Otranto, 
mentioned in the previous chapter. While no really im- 
portant work was produced, the type itself is of 
interest. Its chief ingredients were mystery and terror ; 
and to produce these effects, it made use of ghosts, 
demons, haunted castles, secret passages, blood, intrigue, 
and death, together with all sorts of natural and super- 
natural machinery. The most famous writer of this 
school was Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, whose Mysteries of 
Udolpho may be taken as an excellent representative of 
the type. She indulges freely in the supernatural, but 
makes an effort to explain it by natural causes. Still more 
extreme in its " Gothic " character was The Monky from 
which its author was known as ** Monk " Lewis. He 
wrote various other stories of the same general class. 
William Beckford's Vathek is an Oriental romance, illus- 
trating the same romantic tendencies but with a somewhat 
different atmosphere. A third type of novel is represented 
by Wilham Godwin's Caleb Williams. Its author was a 
political philosopher, and he used the novel as an instrument 
of social and political reform. All three types of novel were 
afterward to receive a much fuller and finer development. 
They are interesting chiefly for this reason and because of 
their relation to the general movements of the age. The 
realistic novel illustrates the ever growing interest in ordi- 



THE AGE OF BURNS (i 780-1 800) 257 

nary men and women, while the political or social novel 
carries this democratic spirit so far as to become revolution- 
ary. The " Gothic " or mediaeval novel is, of course, associ- 
ated with the great romantic movement which has so 
powerfully affected all branches of literature. 

William Cowper was born in the Age of Pope, lived 
all through the Age of Johnson without producing any 
literary work of note, and began his career as wiiiiam 
a poet when he was some fifty years of age, Cowper 
at about the beginning of the period now under review. 
His timid, shrinking, and somewhat morbid nature was 
seriously affected by an unfortunate love affair and by 
other experiences of his early life ; and as a consequence, his 
mind was disordered. The promising and happy career 
which seemed assured to him through the powerful 
influence of a distinguished family was bitterly blighted, 
and Cowper withdrew into a rural retirement on a small 
allowance. All his life, he was afflicted with an extreme 
melancholia, passing at times over the verge of insanity. 
An intensely religious man, he despaired of his own sal- 
vation and believed that he was doomed to be a castaway. 
In his own pathetic words, 

I was a stricken deer that left the herd 
Long since ; with many an arrow deep infixed 
My panting side was charged, when I withdrew 
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. 
There was I found by One who had Himself 
Been hurt by the archers. 

Death was long in coming ; for he lived until the last year 
of the century, carefully tended for many years by dear 
friends, the most devoted of whom was Mrs. Unwin. His 
fiHal tenderness toward her is expressed in his beautiful 
poem To Mary. His poetical work began during his 
residence at Olney, with the Unwins, and covered only 
about ten or twelve years. During the last ten years of 



258 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

his life, he was afflicted with both bodily and mental disease, 
and drew toward the close of his allotted threescore years 
and ten in extreme misery. He died in the mood of 
religious despair so terribly expressed in The Castaivay^ 
where he likens his fate to that of a sailor lost overboard 
at sea. 

Considering the circumstances of his life and the short- 
ness of his Hterary career, Cowper's work is remarkable, 
Cowper's ^^^^ ^^ quantity and in range. It began with 
Early Poems the Olney Hymns, some of which give utterance 
to the deepest religious faith and devotion. When we 
recall that he was the author of such a hymn as that 
beginning. 

There is a fountain fill'd with blood, 

the pathos of his religious despair is vastly deepened by 
the contrast with his religious fervor. His next attempts 
were in the direction of poetical essays and satires after 
the manner of an earlier time. These were not very suc- 
cessful ; but it was difficult for a man of Cowper's temper- 
ament to break suddenly or consciously with the received 
poetic tradition. He was to be a leader in new ways, 
but he was not by nature a revolutionist. The original 
quality in his work was the result of his peculiar individ- 
uality and of his isolation from the world rather than 
of any conscious revolutionary purpose. Such poems as 
The Progress of Error , Truths Hope, Charity, Conversa- 
tion, Retirement, and Table Talk show him still subject 
to the classical influents under which he had grown up. 
The personal element in them is the result of Cowper's 
devout religious spirit and of his delicate humor. This 
humor — so strange when we think of Cowper's terrible 
mental sufferings — is still further illustrated by The 
Diverting History of John Gilpin. The story of John Gil- 
pin's ride is one of the best-known pieces of humor in 
English poetry. 



THE AGE OF BURNS (1780-1800) 259 

Cowper's masterpiece is The Task. It was suggested 
by Lady Austin, who bade him sing of " the Sofa." 
Cowper did begin with that subject, and it 
aptly illustrates his facility in writing good Task and 
blank verse on almost any theme, as well as the ^^' °^°^^ 
fact that the writing of poetry was to him chiefly an 
intellectual diversion from his distressing maladies. ''The 
Task " that had been set for him grew on his hands ; and 
he wrote a long poem dealing with various aspects of the 
country life that he knew so well. Here he reveals him- 
self as a genuine and original poet of nature. His treat- 
ment is simple, unaffected, and sincere ; and it is because 
he wrote without artifice of what he thoroughly understood 
that his method in the handling of nature was a revelation 
to his age. His treatment is not unmixed with didacticism ; 
but he had the true feeling for nature, and a gift of 
minute natural description which has left the world richer 
by some of its most faithful and charming poetic pictures 
of rural sights and scenes. In addition to Cowper's re- 
ligious spirit and his contribution to the poetical treat- 
ment of nature, it is altogether natural that his poetry 
should associate him with the emotional temper of his age. 
Emotionalism with him was no matter of theory or of 
conscious poetic intention. It sprang from the deep life 
sources of his nature. His religious fervor, his profound 
melancholy, his strong natural affection, all led him to 
emotional expression. His lines To Mary are deeply 
affecting. His poem On the Receipt of my Mother's 
Picture out of Norfolk is touched with a melancholy 
tenderness. Above all. The Castaway, his most poignant 
poem, sounds the note of profound and unfeigned despair. 
The same awful note is heard in the conclusion of one of 
his lesser poems : 

I, tempest-tossed, and wrecked at last, 
Come home to port no more. 



260 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

Much inferior to Cowper in poetic gift and also in per- 
sonal interest is George Crabbe. In form, his poetry 
George clings to the old classical tradition, but there is 

Crabbe much in its content and historical significance 

that is important. It is this alone that need detain our 
attention here. Crabbe's reputation was established by 
The Village, a poem in which he describes the life and 
scenery of an obscure fishing hamlet on the coast of 
Suffolk. He had a remarkable gift for describing nature, 
especially in its gloomier and fiercer aspects ; but beyond 
this was his power of depicting the wretched and sordid 
life of the poor. Crabbe spared no coarse or evil detail 
in drawing his reahstic pictures ; and they are stern and 
gloomy even to pessimism. Soon after writing The Village, 
Crabbe ceased altogether from poetry for over twenty 
years, and then took up the same themes again in such 
poems as The Borough and Tales of the Hall. He had 
then fallen upon a new age, but the quality of his work 
was unchanged, and belonged essentially to the eighteenth 
century. It will readily be seen that his work connects 
him, though in a peculiar fashion, with the naturalistic 
movement and more especially with the poetic treatment 
of common men and common things. His emotion was 
grim and stern, and certainly had nothing in it of mere 
sentimentalism. His realism is at the opposite extreme 
from much of the prevailing romanticism of his day. 
These lines from The Village convey the impression of his 
characteristic attitude : 

No ; cast by fortune on a frowning coast, 
Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast ; 
Where other cares than those the Muse relates, 
And other shepherds dwell with other mates ; 
By such examples taught, I paint the cot, 
As Truth will paint it and as bards will not. 

Crabbe is the most realistic of English poets ; Wilham 



THE AGE OF BURNS (1780-1800) 261 

Blake is the most extremely fantastic and idealistic. He 
was, in very truth, '* of imagination all compact." wiuiam 
There was in him a corresponding weakness — ^^^^^ 
not to say failure — of the logical faculty. He thought 
in pictures and symbols, and these images of his thought 
had the utmost vividness and distinctness. We can hardly 
appreciate his poetry without knowing that he was also a 
painter. Painting was doubtless his natural province, for 
there imagery and symbolism might be sufficient unto 
themselves. When he turned to poetry, he endeavored to 
make language do the work of painting, and became 
thereby often vague and incoherent. It is hard to say 
that Blake was mad, but it is quite as hard to say that he 
was entirely sane. He was a typical visionary, and many 
of his visions had for him all the reality of actual presences. 
No doubt he was sincere when he claimed to have seen as 
a child of four God's head at the window, to have talked 
with Jesus Christ, with Moses and the Prophets, with 
Homer, Dante, and Milton. Out of such conditions, 
naturally grew his so-called Prophetic Books, which are 
vague beyond the limit of comprehension. His literary 
fame rests rather upon those lighter poems in which now 
and again a childlike simplicity flashes out into sudden 
beauty. It is almost as though Blake became a true poet 
only in his rare and happy moments and by a sort of 
fortunate accident. It is hard to interpret the character of 
this mystic and dreamer — so complex and so strange ; but 
the best of his Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience 
we may appreciate, and give thanks. Few English poets 
have been capable of a rarer union of strength and sweet- 
ness than Blake manifests at his best. The pictorial 
quality of these and other poems is suggested by the fact 
that Blake printed them from copper plates in which text 
and illustrative designs were interwoven, the sketches 
being engraved and colored by his own hand. One of 



262 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

his best-known poems is The Tiger, in which occurs this 
characteristic stanza : 

When the stars threw down their spears, 
And watered heaven with their tears, 
Did He smile His work to see? 
Did He who made the lamb make thee? 

Blake is a poet of nature, and one of the most exquisite. 
He is a romantic poet, and one of the most extreme. He 
is a reUgious poet, and one of the most rapt and mystical. 
He is an emotional poet, ranging from childish delight 
to profound religious awe. He is an intensely individual 
poet — one of the rarest and strangest personalities in the 
whole range of English poetry. 

Robert Burns was no less distinct an individual, but he 

was much less eccentric and much more in touch with 

ordinary human life. It is difficult for the com- 

Robert Burns r i 1 • 1 r • 1 • 1 

mon man to feel himself m sympathy with 
Blake; but probably no poet has ever appealed more 
strongly than Burns to the general human heart. His 
poetry was not essentially better than Blake's at its best, 
but it was broader, fuller, richer, and more human. It is 
this human quality in his work that comes first to our 
thought, and probably nothing comes nearer to accounting 
for his universal popularity as a poet. He had Crabbe's 
knowledge of common men and the hard conditions of 
their life, as he had Crabbe's directness and sincerity of 
method in portrayal ; but he had more than Crabbe's sym- 
pathy with the common lot, as he had vastly more than 
Crabbe's poetic genius. If we set Burns alongside of 
Cowper for a moment, we shall see that the two men were 
alike in at least one respect — their isolation. Each was' 
left to his own rural and obscure world, to work out the 
suggestions of his genius in his own way. Both had some 
acquaintance with previous literature, and both were some- 
what affected by the old classical influences ; but neither 



THE AGE OF BURNS (1780-1800) 263 

was deeply touched or strongly swerved from his own 
original way. Both were poets of nature — direct, observ- 
ant, sincere ; but the methods of the two were as different 
as their spirit. In most other respects. Burns was in 
strong contrast with Cowper. The one was calm, medita- 
tive, serene, though deeply passionate ; the other was 
impulsive, vigorous, impetuous, moved by passion unre- 
strained. The one was frail with disease and trembled on 
the verge of madness ; the other was sound to the core 
and thoroughly sane. The one rounded out a life of 
seventy years, nursing all the strength of his delicate being 
and concentrating practically all of his Hterary work into his 
sixth decade ; the other, likewise, spent less than ten years 
in poetical work and in his eager pursuit of the joys of 
living, but flung away his life in the spending. 

As we have already partly suggested, Burns was the 
central figure of his age, though so much apart from its 
life. He felt instinctively — perhaps more or gums and 
less unconsciously — all the impulses that were his Age 
stirring the minds of men in his day, and he was in touch 
with all the great tendencies that were making the onward 
current of Enghsh life and literature. His nature was 
open on all sides, and he felt the mighty blowing of all 
intellectual winds. 

He was a poet of nature, and that, too, in the fullest 
and largest sense. The natural forms of his native Scot- 
tish countryside — hills and vales, fields and a Poet of 
streams, trees and flowers and growing crops — Nature 
he knew by daily contact, and loved them with a poet's 
joy. The birds and beasts that he touches with his poetic 
fancy are such as had come under his actual eye. Toward 
all these creatures, his feeling is that of an elder brother. 
To the mountain daisy — " wee, modest, crimson-tipped 
flower" — which he has turned down with his plough, he 
speaks in accents of sympathetic tenderness. To the 



264 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

field-mouse, whose nest has been ruined by that same 
ploughshare, he says, in words broadly significant of his 
attitude toward the whole natural creation : 

I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
Has broken Nature's social union, 
An' justifies that ill opinion, 

Which makes thee startle 
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion. 

An' fellow-mortal! 

With the common human lives that belong to these natural 
surroundings, he has a sympathy even deeper and more 
intense. Indeed, in his poetry, nature is of interest chiefly 
as it reflects human passion and experience by sympathy 
or by contrast. Speaking of Jean Armour, whom he after- 
ward married, he says : 

I see her in the dewy flow.ers, 

I see her sweet and fair ; 
I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 

I hear her charm the air. 

The forlorn maiden, mourning for her lost love, sings : 

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ! 

How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
And I sae weary fu' o' care ! 

The human interest of Burns takes an even wider 
sweep. He has learned from these humble ploughmen and 
peasants who were of his own blood that there 
Common is diviuc quality in the lowliest human lives. As 
Humamty ^ matter of intimate knowledge and of profound 
conviction, he understands that men are to be judged 
by their own inherent worth and not by the accidents of 
wealth, rank, learning, or position. In The Cotter's Sat- 
urday Night, he has drawn an immortal picture of a 
Scottish peasant family, like that which gathered around 
his own father's hearth. The poem is written in the Spen- 
serian stanza, but how different from the atmosphere of 



THE AGE OF BURNS (1780-1800) 265 

Spenser's faeryland is that of this Scottish fireside. 
Nothing could more emphatically mark the gulf that lies 
between the age of the Renaissance and this age of demo- 
cratic feeling. In Tain O'Shanter, we have a glimpse of 
another side of this same peasant life. Tam, planted by 
the ale-house fire with *' his ancient, trusty, drouthy crony," 
is a drunken Ayrshire peasant. As he rides home in the 
stormy night, his head filled with country superstitions — 
as he sees in " Alloway's auld haunted kirk " the vision 
of the witches' dance, and is chased by " the hellish legion " 
over the Brig o' Doon — he becomes in some sort a hero 
of romance through the magic of Burns's fancy. Not alone 
such transcripts from common life does Burns present to 
us. His poetry is filled with human passion, and not least 
with the exceedingly human passion of his own ardent 
nature. Most of all with the passion of love, which has 
poured so much of haunting music into his verse. This 
love was not always sanctified, but it was certainly fervid, 
and sometimes as pure as it was passionate. His verses to 
Jean Armour have been already referred to. There are 
verses also to many others. Mary Morison, My Nanie, O, 
To Mary in Heaven, Farewell to Nancy, Highland Mary — 
these are some of the most beautiful of his numerous love- 
songs. None of his lines go deeper into the heart than 
these from his Farewell to Nancy : 

Had we never loved sae kindly, 
Had we never loved sae blindly, 
Never met — or never parted, 
We had ne'er been broken-hearted ! 

That he can express other feehng than his own, the world 
knows by such songs as Atdd Lang Syne, John Anderson 
my Jo, Bannockburn, A Mans a Man for d that, and 
many songs that portray the passion of other lovers. All 
his poetry shows the breadth and intensity of his sym- 
pathy with his ** fellow-mortals," as well as with the 



266 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

world of nature. That his pity can take an even wider 
range is illustrated in his Address to the Deil: 

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, 
An' let poor damned bodies be ; 

and again, to the Devil himself : 

But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben! 
O wad ye tak a thought an' men' I 
Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — 

Still hae a stake — 
I'm wae to think upo' yon den, 

Ev'n for your sake! 

Burns's association with the emotional tendency of his 
age has been already suggested by what has been said of 
Burns'sEmo- ^^^ treatment of human passion. He was him- 
tionaiism gclf onc of the most passionate of all English 
poets ; he exercised the utmost freedom in the expression 
of his emotion, from broadest humor to the most heart- 
breaking sorrow ; and he is the representative singer of an 
age in which emotion had again come to its rights in Eng- 
lish poetry. Enough has also been said or implied as to 
Burns'sRo- the Comparatively Small element of romanticism 
manticism -^^ Burns's poctry. He was not a typical roman- 
tic poet, and his work should go far toward convincing 
us that Romanticism is not the central literary movement 
of the time. Nevertheless, he was by no means devoid 
of the romantic spirit. He knew how to discover and to 
interpret the romance of common life and of the ordinary 
human heart. His most typical poem in this particular 
is Tarn O'Shanter, whose romantic significance has already 
been suggested. 

A consideration of Burns's attitude toward religion in- 
volves judgment of his life and character as well as of his 
poetry. We can not touch upon such a subject without a 
mixture of feeUngs, and should not except in the mood 
of tender sympathy and broad charity. His wildness. 



THE AGE OF BURNS (1780-1800) 267 

his passions, his dissipations, his excesses of many kinds, 
need not be denied and can not be excused. „ 

Burns's 

He himself would be the last to palliate them. Religious 
Nevertheless, they can be forgiven, and there 
is no need that they should be unduly emphasized. We 
can afford to accept his poetry as it is, thanking God 
for such a genius, and committing to His infinite mercy 
all that was faulty in the nature of one of the greatest of 
His poets. If we have any touch of Burns's own sympa- 
thetic nature, we shall see that beneath the stormy surface 
of his life there was a true human heart and a genuinely 
rehgious spirit. Religious cant, hypocrisy, and pretence 
he hated with the fervor of a generous nature and ridiculed 
with all the power of his humor and his scorn. For true 
religion he displays nothing but reverence and sympathy. 
It is in such a spirit that he depicts the scene in The Cotter s 
Saturday Night, as 

Kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, 
The saint, the father, and the husband prays. 

He knew well, moreover, that 

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs. 

Speaking more directly for himself, he thus sums up the 

matter : 

When ranting round in pleasure's ring, 

Religion may be blinded ; 
Or, if she gie a random sting. 

It may be little minded ; 
But when on life we're tempest-driv'n — 

A conscience but a canker, 
A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n, 

Is sure a noble anchor ! 

The general tenor of his life and of his poetry allows us 
to believe that Burns did have that '' anchor of the soul, 
both sure and steadfast." 

Burns's marked and forceful individuality underlying all 
his actions, his strongly individualistic convictions under- 



268 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

lying all his thought, are not difficult to discover or to 
Burns'sin- appreciate. He preached Individualism, directly 
dividuausm ^^ ^^^^i poetry as A Mans a Man for a' that and 
certain passages of The Cotter s Saturday Nighty indirectly 
in the essential tone and spirit of all his poetry. He gave 
in his own person a splendid example of Individualism. 
This ploughman and son of a poor Scotch peasant broke 
through the restrictions of his lowly rank and made his 
name known to the ends of the earth. He shook off the 
classical fetters that other men had not been able entirely 
to break, and spoke his free and fearless word to an age 
that must needs listen. He left his plough in the furrow 
and consorted with the greatest men of his time on equal 
terms, proud and independent as the best, and then went 
back to his plough again. He made men forget his hum- 
ble origin as he challenged social rank and privilege, 
religious formaHsm and insincerity, political tyranny and 
oppression. 

More even than all this was the strongly individual 
character of his poetic genius and work. He was a lyric 
His Individ- poct, the greatest pure singer that England had 
uai Genius ^^^ sccn. His song was full of exquisite music, but 
it was full also of that deeper thing in lyric poetry, warm and 
genuine human passion. Here were " tears and laughter for 
all time." Here was that " spark o' Nature's fire " which to 
him was better than all learning, full compensation for all 
toil, because it could " touch the heart." His homely Scot- 
tish dialect has become forever a classic speech because it 
has been touched by his genius. No English poet has ever 
come closer than he to the daily lives of men ; for wherever 
the English language is spoken, his songs have been sung 
for a hundred years, and their music does not yet die 
away. Wordsworth spoke most truly : 

Deep in the general heart of men, 
His power survives. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (i 800-1 832) 

The eighteenth century was for the most part an age 
of authority and of classicism. Toward the close of the 
century had come the triumph of new and directly an- 
tagonistic principles, preparing the way for a great and 
original literary period during the earlier years of the 
nineteenth century. The Age of Wordsworth was to be 
distinctively and preeminently the age of Indi- 
vidualism. It was an age of great individual '^^^.^T^!- 

^ ^ Individualism 

geniuses, many of them creating splendid bod- 
ies of literary work and establishing their places among 
the foremost writers of the literature. It was an age of 
great individuahstic achievement ; for although its writers 
were all moved in the main by the same general spirit, the 
work of each of the great leaders was surprisingly distinct 
and pecuHar. It was an age of great individuahstic ideas; 
for Individualism was in the air, was rapidly permeating 
the whole mass of society, and was passing on from a mere 
democratic principle to a concrete realization in actual 
democracy. The literary expression of this individual- 
istic spirit was in large measure a further development 
of tendencies which we have already traced. Roman- 
tic literature was advanced and broadened by men hke 
Scott, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, and Keats. The poetic 
treatment of nature was brought by Wordsworth to 
its greatest depth and significance. The recognition of 
the worth, the dignity, and still further the rights, of the 
common man affected the work of many writers, and de- 
veloped in some cases into a decidedly revolutionary sen- 
timent. Emotion prevailed in literature as it had never 

269 



2/0 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

done since the days of Milton, save in the single case of 
Burns ; but emotionalism was no longer a distinct ten- 
dency, but took its place as a commonly accepted matter 
of fact. Much the same might be said of religion. The 
moral and religious tone of the age and of its literary 
work was higher than that of the eighteenth century ; but 
there was no decided rehgious movement, and no distinct 
religious tendency in literature. Beyond the development 
of these older tendencies, there was much that was new 
and original in the individualistic literature of the time, 
but it is hardly to be defined in general terms. It was 
due to the decided and peculiar personality of many indi- 
vidual writers, and is best to be felt and appreciated in 
connection with the study of their works. 

The high priest of this new literary dispensation was 
William Wordsworth. He more than any other man was 
its leader and its great central figure. He was not so in 
any such sense as Dryden, Pope, and Johnson had been 
Limits of the ^^ their respective periods. The age of the 
Age literary dictator had passed away with the de- 

cadence of the principle of classical authority, and the 
spirit of the present period was too individualistic to bow 
down to any man, however great, as a literary lawgiver. 
Indeed, the influence of Wordsworth was of exceedingly 
slow growth and hardly received full recognition much 
before his own death. This is illustrated in a minor way 
by the fact that, in 181 3, when Wordsworth had already 
written much of his best poetry, Robert Southey, a 
younger man and a much inferior poet, was appointed 
poet-laureate. Southey held that office until his death in 
1843; Wordsworth was then appointed and held it until 
his own death in 1850. If the age is fittingly designated 
by the name of Wordsworth, it is because later genera- 
tions than his own have recognized him as the most rep- 
resentative literary genius of his day. His long life, 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 271 

covering the years from 1770 to 1850, was much more 
than coextensive with the proper Hmits of the period. 
Before the death of Cowper in 1800, his genius had 
already received wide recognition through the publication 
of his Lyrical Ballads. He continued to exercise his 
poetical powers till well toward the end of his Hfe, al- 
though his literary activity practically ceased as early as 
1835. Even before the latter date, the age was practically 
over, and the literature of a new period was well under 
way. There was naturally much overlapping of literary 
work; but probably the year 1832 best marks the point 
at which the old period may be regarded as passing into 
the new. That was the year of the death of Scott, one of 
the most popular and influential literary men of the age. 
It was the year of the death of Goethe, the greatest lit- 
erary figure of the continent. It was the year of the 
great Reform Bill, which marks the beginning of the 
extension of the elective franchise and of the growth of 
practical democracy in England. In the next year Brown- 
ing published Pauline, Carlyle published Sartor Resarttis, 
and Tennyson published his first collected Poe?ns. These 
are among the most notable men and works of the next 
period ; and from this point the newer literature grew rap- 
idly, while only a few scattered works were pubHshed by 
eminent leaders of the older period. The present chap- 
ter, therefore, will aim to discuss literary work that lies for 
the most part between the years 1800 and 1832, although 
it will to some extent overpass those limits at either end. 

The eighteenth century was distinctively an age of 
prose. The Age of Wordsworth — like the Age of 
Shakespeare and unlike the Age of Tennyson 

, . , , , r X Character of 

— was decidedly an age of poetry. Its great Literature in 
men of genius were mostly eminent in the ^ ^^ 
poetical field, distinction was more easily achieved in 
poetry than in prose, the general taste was decidedly set in 



272 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

the poetic direction. This fact has helped to mark it as 
the second great age in our literary history ; for poetry is the 
highest form of literary expression, and poetry seems to 
have been most in harmony with the noblest powers of the 
English genius. There was also a noteworthy develop- 
ment of the novel which was already beginning to establish 
itself as the favorite literary form of the nineteenth 
century. Miscellaneous prose was by no means without 
its distinguished representatives, and the age has given to 
English literature some of its noblest examples of prose 
style. The drama was the only great literary form that 
was not adequately represented. Many of the great poets, 
as well as other writers, tried their hands at dramatic work ; 
but there is probably not a single great drama in the 
stricter sense of the term. The best that we can say is 
that there was some really noble poetry written in nomi- 
nally dramatic form. During the nineteenth century, the 
drama seems to have been practically superseded by the 
novel as a medium for the portrayal of its complex forms 
of life and character. It remains to be said that the 
literature of the age was exceedingly rich and varied. 
There were many excellent writers, and there was a vast 
body of excellent work. Under these conditions, it be- 
comes almost an absolute necessity to confine our attention 
to the greatest writers and to those who best represent the 
essential spirit of the age. In our consideration of these, 
we shall see — what more detailed study would only serve 
to confirm — that the great literary impulse of the age is 
the impulse of Individualism, manifesting itself — most 
naturally — in a wonderful variety of forms. 

WiUiam Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth in Cum- 
Wiiuam bcrlaud, and went to school as a boy at Hawks- 

wordsworth j^^^^^ j^ ^j^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^f ^^^ bcautiful Eng- 

Ush Lake District. It was in these early days that he 
learned to love, and in some measure to understand, those 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 273 

aspects of nature which he was afterward to portray with 
such marvelous poetic power. At seventeen, he went to 
Cambridge University, where he became a member of St. 
John's College. The life here was not altogether con- 
genial to him ; but, nevertheless, his contemplative and 
receptive nature drew much from study and from the 
associations of the historic place. His love for nature was 
still further developed by his country wanderings ; and 
among other evidences of his broadening intelligence was 
a rather curious poetic interest in the higher mathematics. 
After leaving the University, he spent two years in travel 
on the continent, feeling with delight the grandeur of the 
Alps, and coming into somewhat intimate con- 
tact with the men and events of the French 
Revolution. These two interests are symbolic of the two 
great passions of Wordsworth's life, the passion for nature 
and the passion for humanity. By the ideals of the 
Revolution — " Liberty, Equality, Fraternity " — his young 
soul was stirred to its depths ; and he planned to cast in 
his lot with the great movement. Just before the frightful 
" Reign of Terror," he was recalled to England and was 
probably thus saved from falling a victim to his own 
enthusiasm. The excesses and final failure of the Revolu- 
tion brought about a reaction in his mind and made him for 
the rest of his life a conservative. He remained always a 
poet of liberty moving within the bounds of law, but he 
was opposed to violent revolutionary outbreak. This atti- 
tude was really more in harmony with the serene and steady 
nature of the man, although the remembrance of his 
youthful passion of enthusiasm led him to exclaim : 

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, 
But to be young was very Heaven! 

In 1 797-1 798 he was a neighbor, in Somersetshire, of 
Coleridge, who joined with him in the writing and publi- 



274 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

cation of the Lyrical Ballads. After a year in Germany, 
he settled down in the early days of the nineteenth century 
to fifty years of quiet and productive life in the English 
Lake District where his boyhood had been nourished. 
Here he found his proper environment, and here his genius 
steadily grew in ripeness and spiritual power. 

In these surroundings he could be a true poet of nature ; 
but his earlier experiences and the natural constitution of 
his own mind prepared him also to be a poet of humanity 
and a poet of man's intellectual life. He felt himself, 
Hke Milton, to be a dedicated spirit, for whom the tasks of 
poetry were no less than a divine calling. His preparation 
for these tasks has been roughly indicated by the brief 
His Poetic outline of his career. He himself has fully elab- 
Deveiopment Qj-^tcd the coursc of this preparation in one of 
the most famous of his works — a long poem in fourteen 
books, called The Prelude^ in which he sets forth the prin- 
cipal facts of his early life and shows the development of 
his poetic faculty. The subtitle of the work — '' Growth 
of a Poet's Mind, an Autobiographical Poem " — indicates 
its peculiar purpose, and shows Wordsworth's superb self- 
consciousness and self-esteem. He deemed the history of 
his own personal development worthy to be unfolded in a 
poem of heroic proportions. It was a splendid egotism ; 
but Wordsworth was not wrong in considering his own 
spiritual experiences to be among the great facts of Eng- 
Ush poetry. He delivers to us a secret of his poetic great- 
ness when he says, " I loved whate'er I saw." He tells 
us in brief his poetic attitude, after many inward strivings, 
when he declares that he 

In Nature's presence stood, as now I stand, 
A sensitive being, a creative soul. 

Wordsworth stands in the thought of the world — and 
justly — as the greatest of all poets of nature. He was 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 275 

born to that office. From his very earhest years he was 
ahve to the beauty and to the spiritual suggestiveness 
of the world of nature around him. He had the The Poet of 
seeing eye, the receptive soul, the divine gift of Mature 
spiritual insight. In his youngest days, he could say of 
himself : 

The sounding cataract 
Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, 
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, 
Their colors and their forms, were then to me 
An appetite ; a feeling and a love, 
That had no need of a remoter charm, 
By thought supplied, nor any interest 
Unborrowed from the eye. 

This sufficiently indicates the poetic sensuousness — the 
exquisite delight in all the joys of the senses — that lay at 
the foundation of Wordsworth's rather intellectual genius. 
But this was only the foundation. There soon came into 
his life and into his poetry the higher " charm, by thought 
supplied," the deeper significance supplied by his un- 
paralleled faculty of spiritual vision. It is not merely 
accurate description of nature that he gives, not merely 
reproduction of the beauty of her myriad forms. Nor is 
it the sentiment of nature alone or her reflection of the 
passions and experiences of the human soul. It is the 
soul of Nature herself. 

He is, therefore, something more than a greater Thom- 
son or Collins or Cowper or Burns. He is nature's in- 
spired seer and interpreter. Nature to him is a 
divine symbol, the uttered word of the eternal interpretation 

1 1 1 • • 1 • r 1 • 1 1 of Nature 

thought ; and it is the meaning of this symbol 
that he attempts, within the range of human powers, to 
discover and to convey. Suggesting the image of a child, 
applying to its ear a shell and hearing therein 

Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed 
Mysterious union with its native sea, 



2/6 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

he adds, 

Even such a shell the universe itself 
Is to the ear of Faith ; and there are times, 
I doubt not, when to you it doth impart 
Authentic tidings of invisible things ; 
Of ebb and flow, and ever during power ; 
And central peace, subsisting at the heart 
Of endless agitation. 

It is such " authentic tidings of invisible things " that 
Wordworth's poetry aims to bring to mankind. Beyond 
all other poetry that has ever been written, it succeeds in 
suggesting through its treatment of natural appearances 
that deeper meaning of nature which no human language 
or symbol can adequately express. 

To this profound interpretation, Wordsworth is able to 
give the impressive power of artistic utterance. He has 
not only " the vision and the faculty divine," but he has in 
ideaUzation duc mcasurc " the accomplishment of verse." 
of Nature jg^ ^^iQ power of his imagination, the natural 
world is idealized and clothed for us in 

The light that never was, on sea or land, 
The consecration, and the Poet's dream. 

It is made alive, too, by his emotion ; for he was endowed, 
not only with the power of minute observation, of graphic 
portrayal, of spiritual interpretation, of imaginative ideal- 
ization, but with the power also of pouring out his heart in 
passionate description. It is the soul of nature that we 
are made to feel, but it is also the soul of Wordsworth. 
He has an intense love for nature and a profound sympathy 
with her various forms ; and this love and sympathy is 
doubtless in large measure the secret of his ability to dis- 
cover the manifold beauties that she has to reveal and to 
interpret the deeper meanings which she hides from 
unanointed eyes. 

Perhaps no poetic doctrine is more peculiar to him than 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 277 

that nature is informed by a living spirit which animates 

all her multitudinous shapes. In one of his earlier poems, 

he says, 

And 'tis my faith that every flower 

Enjoys the air it breathes. 

The faith here so simply expressed is elsewhere elaborated 
more fully and with larger sweep of thought. The Life of 
Especially do we find his poetic creed set forth ^^^^^^ 
in his Lines composed above Tintern Abbey, on the Banks 
of the Wye. The sensuousness of his earlier feeling for 
nature has already been illustrated by a passage from this 
same poem, and the lines which almost immediately follow 
are the finest illustration of his further development in 
intellectual and spiritual perception : 

For I have learned 
To look on nature, not as in the hour 
Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes 
The still, sad music of humanity, 
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 
A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
Of something far more deeply interfused, 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things. 

These lines suggest that Wordsworth has not only de- 
rived from his deeper contemplation of nature " a sense 
sublime of something far more deeply interfused," but 
that he has also learned to hear ''the still, sad music of 
humanity." This leads us to observe that in his maturity 
his interest in man was almost if not quite equal a Poet of 
to his interest in nature. The human interest ^^° 
was in part aroused in him by his experiences in the 



278 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

broader world of men, by his foreign travel, and especially 
by his brief association with the French Revolution. The 
latter brought him into contact with forceful individuals 
and with the broad sweep of great human problems. Not 
alone in this way, however, was his interest in man devel- 
oped. He found dwelling in the midst of his native hills 
human beings who to him were an organic part of the great 
whole, so vitally associated with nature that they were hardly 
to be moved out of their place any more than the hills them- 
selves. These also were men, with human passions and 
experiences not really less significant than those of the 
great leaders of the French Revolution., 

Wordsworth was one of the most thoroughgoing of indi- 
vidualists. If there was any one thing that was the very 
His Individ- comer-stoue of his character, his thought, and 
uaUsm j^-g pQgtJc creed, it was faith in the value and in 

the poetic significance of what men ordinarily call the com- 
monplace. He speaks of Robert Burns, ploughman and 
poet of common men, as one 

Whose light I hailed when first it shone, 

And showed my youth 
How Verse may build a princely throne 

On humble truth. 

Such a man was not likely to miss the importance of com- 
mon men any more than the importance of common things. 
Treatment of Indeed, this tendency to find poetic values every- 
CommonMen ^^ej-g ^^g somctimcs a suare to Wordsworth. 
Lacking the sense of humor that would have enabled him 
to perceive when he was passing the bounds of the ridicu- 
lous, he wrote such poems as The Idiot Boy and Peter Bell. 
On the other hand, in poems like The Leech-Gatherer and 
Michael, he has attained the noblest poetic results that 
were ever reached by such simple means. The latter is the 
severely plain story of an old shepherd whose heart is 
broken by the shame of an only and well-beloved son. 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 279 

When the boy went away from home, the father had 
just begun to build a sheepfold ; and though the old man 
wrought at the fold for seven years after the boy's dis- 
grace, he ''left the work unfinished when he died." The 
profound impression of Michael's sorrow is conveyed by 
the suggestion that *' many and many a day " he went to 
his labor, 

And never lifted up a single stone. 

How bare and prosaic are the mere words ; and yet, charged 
with its weight of meaning, it is one of the most grandly 
simple lines in English poetry. In such treatment, Words- 
worth is dealing with the natural rather than with the 
artificial man, showing man as vitally related to nature 
and drawing help and comfort from her. He can hardly 
be said to have much dramatic power in the portrayal of 
individual character, and perhaps is disposed rather to 
deal with human ideas and emotions — with humanity 
rather than with individual man. 

This suggests still another avenue of approach by which 
his love for nature has brought him to a large human 
interest. He feels that these two — nature 

Harmony of 

and man — were made by God for each other Nature and 
and should be in harmony. He makes us feel 

How exquisitely the individual mind 

(And the progressive powers perhaps no less 

Of the whole species) to the external world 

Is fitted : — and how exquisitely, too — 

Theme this but little heard of among men — 

The external world is fitted to the mind ; 

And the creation (by no lower name 

Can it be called) which they with blended might 

Accomplish. 

This is Wordsworth's " high argument " ; and it is in this 
spirit that he becomes the poet both of nature and of man, 
in their spiritual communion with each other. 



280 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

Wordsworth said, " Every great poet is a teacher ; I 
wish either to be considered as a teacher or as nothing." 
Whatever we may think of the vahdity of this opinion, 
it is at least perfectly unequivocal. Wordsworth was — 
and is — a teacher. He was not only a man endowed with 
poetic imagination, poetic passion, and poetic feeling for 
beauty ; he was also a great thinker. He is properly to 
APhiiosoph- be called a philosophical poet. The name of 
icai Teacher philosopher is not to be applied to him in 
any strict sense of the word ; for he was not a merely 
speculative thinker, nor did he have an ordered philo- 
sophical system. Yet he is philosophical in that he 
deals, after the poet's fashion, with problems of the uni- 
verse and of human being. The subjects of his think- 
ing have already been largely indicated. His doctrine of 
a universal spirit in nature has been called pantheistic ; 
but although Wordsworth speaks in the vaguest terms 
of " a motion and a spirit " in nature, he speaks also 
of the soul as coming 

From God, who is our home. 

This line is from his Ode on Intimations of Immortality^ 
one of the greatest poetic masterpieces of the century. 
Intimations of This pocm is typical of his philosophical as 
immortauty ^g^i ^g of his poctic Spirit. The soul comes 
into the world attended by the vision of the glory from 
which it sprang. 

At length the man perceives it die away, 
And fade into the light of common day. 

Yet Nature is a most kindly nurse, and "even with some- 
thing of a Mother's mind," " doth all she can " 

To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, 

Forget the glories he hath known, 
And that imperial palace whence he came. 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 281 

Still there are within us instincts and affections, 

Which, be they what they may, 
Are yet the fountain Hght of all our day, 
Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; 

Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the being 
Of the eternal Silence. 

Such philosophical teaching as this runs through all of 
Wordsworth's poetry, so wide in range, so varied in quality. 
It is the teaching of a great poet, with superb mastery 
over the resources of his art — able to command the charm 
of lyric melody, to shape the sonnet into finished perfec- 
tion, to build the meditative verse where " high and passion- 
ate thoughts " are " to their own music chanted," to construct 
great temples of poetry like his Prelude and his 
Excitrsio7i. It is the teaching of a great master 
of life, charged with ethical meaning. His poetry touches 
the highest; it does not despise the lowest. In it, 

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars ; 
The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, 
Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers. 

A man of extraordinary genius, allied with Wordsworth 
by close personal friendship and by association in literary 
work, was Samuel Taylor Coleridge. There are 
some points of similarity between the two men, fo^j-Tokridge 
but in other respects they are strikingly unlike 
in character and in genius. The intellectual powers of 
Coleridge were little short of marvelous, both in range 
and in quality. He was a man of broad and varied learn- 
ing, so much so that it is doubtful if any mind in his age 
was so richly stored as his. He was a profound philo- 
sophical thinker — acute, subtle, and original. His critical 
powers were of the very first order ; and in this . 

respect he had a gift which Wordsworth almost 
wholly lacked. In purely poetic genius, he was probably 



282 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

as richly endowed as any man in the nineteenth century. 
His command of the resources of language, both in poetry 
and in prose, has seldom been equalled. It is generally 
agreed that he was one of the greatest conversers that 
ever lived. Many of the greatest men of his age — Words- 
worth among the rest — owed much to his stimulus and 
inspiration ; and from him went out streams of influence 
that did much to make the literature of his generation so 
rich and so full. These are some of his titles to fame, and 
these are suggestive rather than exhaustive. 

Over against these remarkable powers are to be set 
limitations many and unfortunate. His nature and the 
HisLimita- Conditions of his life were such that his great 
tions gifts were in large measure locked up from use 

and never came to adequate expression. Doubtless the 
extent to which he exercised personal influence upon other 
men took away in no small degree from his own use of his 
own powers. Then, he was a dreamer rather than a doer. He 
planned many things, and in his fortunate moments could 
achieve with the best; but most of his plans came to nothing, 
and his life was strewn with unfinished projects. His meth- 
ods of work were desultory, and only in his happy moods 
was he capable of his best self-expression. He was constitu- 
tionally sluggish even to laziness, and accomplished his 
set task only by painful effort. He spent his great intel- 
lectual resources and potential energies in talk rather 
than in productive literary labor. As if all this were not 
enough, he was a confirmed and excessive opium-eater. 
All things considered, it is perhaps a wonder that he accom- 
plished so much rather than that he accomplished so little. 

From what has been said, it will easily be seen that 
Coleridge was a unique, original, and impressive person- 
Coierid e's ality. He was strikingly individual even in that 
Individualism ^ge of marked individualities. His sympathies, 
his theories, and his literary expression were also marked 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 283 

by the prevailing spirit of Individualism. Like Words- 
worth, he was enthusiastic for the French Revolution, and 
spoke noble words in behalf of human freedom. In one of 
his poems, he calls on waves, forests, clouds, sun, and sky : 

Ye, everything that is and will be free ! 
Be witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be, 
With what deep worship I have still adored 
The spirit of divinest Liberty. 

Under the influence of this spirit, he planned with Southey 
to found a so-called '* Pantisocracy " — a Utopian com- 
munity in which all should rule equally — on the banks 
of the Susquehanna in Pennsylvania. They actually set 
about the carrying forward of this project, but were forced 
to abandon it for lack of sufficient money to cross the sea. 
It was a poet's dream, but it illustrates the dreams that 
men found possible in that day. In no way, however, did 
Coleridge display his individualism more than in the unique 
character of his literary work. Like Words- 

. Individualis- 

worth, he struck out his own modes of expres- tic character 
sion and followed the singular impulses of his ° 
own peculiar genius. Those modes and impulses were as 
different from those of Wordsworth as from those of other 
men, although the two friends were in intimate literary asso- 
ciation. Coleridge was as preeminently a romantic as 
Wordsworth was a naturalistic poet, and his romanticism 
was different from anything that English literature had 
yet seen. It was, as we shall see, the romanticism of a 
dreamer but also the romanticism of a philosopher. As a 
poet of nature, he was second only to Wordsworth and 
with a manner quite his own. As a philosophical thinker, 
he was profoundly interested in the spiritual philosophy 
of the great German writers, and nothing gives more of 
continuous purpose to his life than his endeavors to in- 
terpret that philosophy to English readers. All of these 
literary activities were in harmony with the ruling spirit 



284 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

of his age ; and through them all he becomes one of 
the leading representatives of the individuaHstic move- 
ment. 

Instead of going to America, Coleridge settled down to 
a happy and quiet life at Nether Stowey, in the Quantock 
Coleridge's Hills in Somersetshire. In 1797 Wordsworth 
Poetry ^^d his sistcr Dorothy established themselves 

in the neighborhood in order to enjoy Coleridge's society. 
Under the influence of Wordsworth's strong and vigorous 
personality, Coleridge was inspired to active and fruitful 
literary work. In a single "wonderful year," he wrote 
nearly all of the poems upon which the greatness of his poetic 
fame really rests. In 1798 the two friends published the 
famous Lyrical Ballads, containing Coleridge's Rime of the 
The Ancient Aiicient Mariner and many of Wordsworth's 
Mariner bcst-known early poems. The Ancient Mariner 

is Coleridge's masterpiece, the one perfect and flawless 
work of a life so full of futile projects. It is in form and 
general tone an imitation of the old ballads ; but the essen- 
tial spirit that makes the very heart of it is vastly deeper 
than that of any mere ballad that ever was written, and 
the poetic genius that presided over its creation was in- 
comparably greater than that of any mere singer of the 
people. One is astounded at the imagination that could 
take elements so strange, so weird, so fantastic, so super- 
natural, and could make them like " Presences plain in the 
place" — so vivid, so concrete, so distinct, so credible. 
The language matches its great matter. It is doubtful 
whether there is in all literature another work so remark- 
ably illustrating the power of word and phrase to convey 
and to suggest "the forms of things unknown" which the 
poetic " imagination bodies forth." Here, if anywhere, 
"the poet's pen" has indeed given "to airy nothing a 
local habitation and a name." As for the music of his 
verse, 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 285 

And now 'twas like all instruments, 
Now like a lonely flute ; 
And now it is an angel's song, 
That makes the heavens be mute. 

Nominally, the poem is romantic in the ordinary accepta- 
tion of the term ; but in reality, its romantic character is 
" deeper than did ever plummet sound " and at bottom 
touches essential reahty. The fantastic scenes and hap- 
penings of the poem are such as could have no objective 
existence in the actual world; but Coleridge — profound 
psychologist that he was — knew well that they could 
have a subjective existence. They could take shape in 
the imagination of such an inspired dreamer as himself. 
They could veritably exist in the disordered brain of that 
"grey-beard loon," the Ancient Mariner. It is he who 
holds the Wedding-Guest "with his glittering eye" and 
makes him " listen like a three years' child " to the 
tale which makes him "a sadder and a wiser man." 
Every reader of Coleridge's great poem must be sadder 
to feel that such things have been, and wiser to under- 
stand that they still can be. Other poets of his age 
taught men that each individual soul has its place and its 
part in the world ; he taught them that a whole world 
exists by itself in each individual soul. 

In CJiristabel — unhappily only an exquisite fragment — 
he has given us still further insight into the mysterious 
human spirit. It seems to have been intended 

11- 1 n 1 Christabel 

to symbolize the conflict between good and evil 

in human nature. Indescribably weird and fascinating is 

the picture of the demon woman who throws her spell over 

The lovely lady, Christabel. 

As she unbinds her robe, this evil being, mingled of beauty 
and horror, is 

A sight to dream of, not to tell ! 



286 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

This same contrast between good and evil is suggested by 
the picture of the " bright green snake " coiled around the 
wings and neck of the dove. One of the most famous 
passages of the poem is that in which Coleridge describes 
the broken friendship of Sir Leoline and Lord Roland : 

They stood aloof, the scars remaining, 

Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ; 

A dreary sea now flows between, 

But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, 

Shall wholly do away, I ween. 

The marks of that which once hath been. 

These two poems illustrate the romantic side of Cole- 
ridge's genius. His Dejection, aii Ode, may serve to rep- 
Dejection, resent those moods of depression and sadness 
an Ode which arosc from his afflictions and which did 

so much to check the flow of his genius. 

But oh ! each visitation 
Suspends what nature gave me at my birth, 
My shaping spirit of Imagination. 

The quality of his genius and the influences which re- 
pressed it could hardly be better suggested. The poem 
will also serve as well as any to illustrate Cole- 
ment of ridgc's gift as a poet of nature. Though he is 

Nature writing on a personal and emotional theme, we 

become aware that he has an alert and accurate eye for 
natural form and color. He realizes, however, as he else- 
where says. 

That outward forms, the loftiest, still receive 
Their finer influence from the world within. 

And he adds here, 

I may not hope from outward forms to win 

The passion and the Ufe, whose fountains are within. 

Nature is spiritualized, but it is rather his own soul that is 
poured out into nature : 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 287 



A light, a glory, a fair, luminous cloud 
Enveloping the earth. 

It follows that nature for him is often touched with the 
weird, romantic quality of his own strange imagination. 
There is on the one side an imaginative apprehension of 
what is really in nature, and, on the other, an imaginative 
projection upon nature of what exists only in his own 
mind. In this particular poem, his idealizing faculty is 
perhaps best illustrated by these lines : 

And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, 
That give away their motion to the stars. 

Finally, we may note that Coleridge's poetic love for na- 
ture associates itself with his more than poetic love for 
freedom. Not in the forms of human government is free- 
dom to be found, not even in the individual human spirit. 
In nature alone there is perfect liberty, because there is 
perfect law. 

During the remainder of his life, Coleridge wrote much 
poetry ; but little of it was equal to his best, and his most 
characteristic activity was in other fields. His coieridge's 
creative poetic power seemed in large measure to ^^°^® 
fail, while his philosophical and critical powers — the more 
purely intellectual side of his nature — increased in corre- 
sponding measure. There was, however, still the same 
general attitude of mind, the same general purpose and 
method. In poetry, he had endeavored to bring the 
spiritual and the remote down to the level of the ordinary 
imagination — whereas Wordsworth, on the contrary, had 
sought to exalt the commonplace into poetic beauty. In 
prose, Coleridge aimed to interpret to the ordinary mind 
the meaning of a spiritual and transcendental philosophy 
or the significance of a great poet like Shakespeare or 
Wordsworth. On the side of philosophy, his mo§t impor- 



288 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

tant work is found in Aids to Reflection. In the direction 
of literary criticism, his best powers are displayed in Bio- 
graphia Literaria^ where he explains and interprets the 
poetical theories of Wordsworth with a critical judgment 
and insight which was almost entirely lacking in Words- 
worth himself. His Lectures and Notes on Shakespeare 
contains some of the most suggestive interpretation of the 
great dramatist that has ever been written. These and 
other works place him among the very greatest of Eng- 
lish critics. As a prose stylist, Coleridge was surpassed 
by not a few men in his own generation. The command 
of the resources of language and the sense of verbal 
music that are so manifest in his poetry did not fail him 
here ; but in his prose work he is much more intent on 
matter than on form and the distinctively intellectual pur- 
pose of his prose writings had its natural effect upon his 
style. Probably the most remarkable examples of his 
prose expression are to be found in the singular and half- 
poetical prose commentary that runs alongside of the 
stanzas of his Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Here he is 
quaint, imaginative, and decidedly original. 

Sir Walter Scott was of nearly equal age with Words- 
worth and Coleridge, but he differs very decidedly from 
Sir Walter ^°^^ ^^ them, no Icss in his character and 
Scott genius than in the circumstances of his life and 

the quality of his literary work. His preparation for the lit- 
erary tasks of his mature years would seem to have been an 
almost ideal one. Born and brought up in a land filled with 
historic and romantic associations, his youth was nourished 
on ballad, legend, and historic tale that fed his imagination 
and kindled his enthusiasm. His delicate boyhood was 
largely spent on his grandfather's farm of Sandy Knowe, 
in a region of history and poetic legend. Edinburgh, 
where he was born and educated, he calls "mine own 
romantic town." Many years of his youth were partly 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 289 

spent in traversing the country, collecting ballads and tales. 
Besides all this, his reading made him widely acquainted 
with the legendary lore of Scotland, England, and Ger- 
many, and with a wide range of British and continental 
history, mediaeval and modern. He began his literary 
work with translations and imitations from the German, 
and in 1802 published a collection of native ballads, songs, 
and tales under the title of Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border. His first great original work was a poem Literary 
called The Lay of the Last Minstrel, published in Career 
1805; and the years from this date until 18 14 practically 
mark the limits of his purely poetical career. In 18 14 he 
published Waverley, his first novel ; and from this time 
until his death in 1832, appeared the long series of the 
*' Waverley Novels." Hardly a year passed without one 
or two novels being put forth, and his income during a 
considerable period ranged from fifteen to twenty thousand 
pounds a year. Scott bought a large estate, built the 
magnificent mansion of Abbotsford on the banks of the 
Tweed, received in 1820 the title of baronet, and cherished 
as the fond dream of his life a hope of founding the noble 
family of Scott of Abbotsford. The dream was cruelly 
shattered in 1826 by the failure of the pubhsh- 
ing firm of Ballantyne, in which he had secretly 
become a partner. Refusing bankruptcy, Scott assumed 
a debt of some ;£ 117,000, and set himself to the tremen- 
dous task of paying it in full by his Hterary labors. That 
task he practically achieved, and the remainder of the 
debt was cleared off by the income from his works after 
his death. The result for Scott was paralysis and soften- 
ing of the brain. He was offered a man-of-war in which 
to make a trip to Italy ; but from his voyage, he returned 
to die at Abbotsford in his sixty-first year. His life was 
Hterally made a sacrifice to his commercial honor, and he 
thereby left the world an example more precious than 



290 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

all his works. So long as the name of Scott is spoken, this 
thing shall be "told for a memorial " of him. 

Scott's poetry is chiefly in the form of lyric songs, bal- 
lads, and more especially, long verse-tales. His first 
notable poem. The Lay of the Last Minstrel^ is a 
s oery ^^g^jggy-^j ^^^ '^^ large part supernatural story 
of border feud, associated with the family of Buccleuch, 
with the wizard Michael Scott, with actual ancestors of Sir 
Walter, and with such places as Branksome Tower and 
Melrose Abbey. The " Lay " is supposed to be sung be- 
fore the Duchess of Buccleuch and her ladies, toward the 
close of the seventeenth century, by an old minstrel. What 
is said of him in the introduction to the poem might well 
be applied to Scott himself : 

The last of all the Bards was he, 
Who sung of Border chivalry. 

In Marmion there is decided advance. The qualities 
which had made the Lay so extremely popular were here 
exhibited in fuller measure and on a larger scale. It is 
called " a tale of Flodden Field," and the great battle of 
Flodden is described at the close of the poem with a vigor 
and animation that convey the very spirit of the fight. 
The events that lead up to the battle are full of stirring 
interest and are interwoven with a love story whose happy 
outcome is in fine contrast with Marmion's violent death. 
Even more successful was The Lady of the Lake, which is 
probably Scott's poetic masterpiece. We are here carried 
to the edge of the Highlands, to the beautiful Loch Kat- 
rine and the wild pass of the Trossachs. The " Lady " is 
Ellen Douglas, who lives with her father, the outlawed 
noble, upon an island in the lake. Fitz -James, the unknown 
huntsman who has lost his way amid the mountains, is 
entertained by the Douglases and guided on his way by 
Roderick Dhu, the famous Highland chief. He finally 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 291 

proves to be the king of Scotland, and the poem closes 
with reconciliation between him and the Douglas. 

These and other poems of Scott were among the most 
immediately popular poetic works ever written. To them, 
more than to the early poetry of Wordsworth and Cole- 
ridge, is due the rapid triumph of the newer poetic ideals 
among the great masses of the people. This Quautyof 
poetry is essentially, almost exclusively, roman- scott's Poetry 
tic ; and in it the romantic movement which had been 
growing during a large part of the eighteenth century 
may be said to reach its culmination. The subjects of 
Scott's romantic verse are found in the Middle Ages and 
in English and Scottish history. It does not follow, how- 
ever, that he was a mere imitator. He goes to the past for 
his material, but he uses that material in a way peculiar to 
himself, shaping it by his imagination and filling it with 
his own romantic spirit. Next to the romantic quality of 
his poetry is to be noted its narrative character. Scott 
was a master story-teller, in verse as well as in prose. He 
constructed romantic tales thoroughly fitted for poetic ex- 
pression, and told them with a vigor, a rapidity of move- 
ment, an interest of incidents, a brilliancy of description, a 
swing and resonance of verse, that showed him a master 
in his art. It can hardly be claimed for Scott that he was 
the equal of Wordsworth, of Coleridge, or of others of his 
poetic contemporaries, in the higher qualities of poetry. 
He was, however, a genuine poet, in the character of his 
imagination and in his command of the music of language. 
The extent of his poetry is fairly to be taken into the ac- 
count, and this is all the more noteworthy when we consider 
that practically all of his poetic work was confined to a 
single decade. He had as much poetic genius as was nec- 
essary to make a great, popular, and voluminous narrative 
poet. 

Scott's novels are as truly romantic as his poems. They 



292 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

are romantic in their subject-matter, which is largely his- 
torical, though partly legendary. Thev are 

Scott's Novels ^- • f, • L A f . \. ^ i u 

romantic in their method of treatment ; for he 
allows his imagination to play freely with his material 
and to shape it as he wills. They are romantic even in 
the sense that they lay chief stress upon the narrative 
element rather than upon the picture of life and character. 
Most of the novels are historical, and Scott is the real 
creator of a type which later writers have so fully devel- 
Historicai op^d. The history covered is Scottish, Eng- 
Noveis lish, and continental. There is an exceedingly 

wide range in time as well as in place. Count Robert of 
Paris, for instance, is located at Constantinople in 1090 ; 
St. Ronaris Well is practically contemporary with the 
writing of the story and is laid amid scenes with which 
Scott is perfectly familiar. The favorite historical field, 
however, is the Middle Ages. Ivanhoe is a picture of 
English life in the reign of Richard I. The Talisman is 
a story of the Crusades. Quentin Diirward is connected 
with French history in the days of Louis XI and Charles 
the Bold. Not a few of his best stories, however, deal 
with a later time. A notable example is Kenilworth, 
which gives a brilliant picture of the Age of Ehzabeth, 
Scott had a marvelous power to reproduce the past and 
to show his readers that it was peopled with real men 
and women. He took pains to know the period of which 
he wrote, and sometimes wearies the reader with obtru- 
sive notes to prove his historical accuracy. He does not, 
however, give the absolute fact of history. This is only 
to say that he was a noveUst rather than a historian. 
What he does give, is the spirit of history, which puts life 
into the bare facts. 

A considerable number of his novels deal with Scottish 
history or with Scottish social life in a period not very 
remote from his own day. Here he was on his own 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 293 

ground, and in this field he produced some of his most suc- 
cessful works. They are less romantic in conception and 
come closer to real life. Scottish character he Scottish 
thoroughly understood, and no less close was his Novels 
acquaintance with Scottish history and scenery. All this 
enabled him to narrate and to describe with vividness, 
with full conviction, and with unfailing truth. His por- 
trayal, too, had the advantage of the enthusiasm which 
came from his strong Scotch patriotism. 

Scott, we have already said in connection with his po- 
etry, was a great story-teller. He had much skill in the 
construction of plot and still more in the con- piotand 
duct of narrative. His stories show rapidity of Character 
movement, interesting details, dramatic situations, effective 
cHmaxes, great variety, and a fair degree of unity. His 
narrative is wonderfully helped and strengthened by his 
power of vivid and picturesque description. It is in this 
connection that the treatment of nature chiefly enters 
into his work. He had no conception of a spiritual life 
and meaning in nature, but he loved her outward forms 
and knew how to portray them as the background of his 
human pictures. His descriptive gift is also serviceable 
in the portrayal of character. He had a really remarkable 
skill in character delineation. The personages of his 
novels are varied and original, they have both vital- 
ity and fidelity to nature. Above all, they are thoroughly 
objective, no mere reflections of the author himself. On 
the other hand, they are comparatively superficial ; for 
Scott did not possess insight equal to his power of por- 
trayal. In general, it may be said that they are individual 
rather than typical, and that they are not a little affected 
by his romantic tendencies. His greatest success was 
probably achieved in the treatment of historical char- 
acters. He has given us true, interesting, and valuable, 
though not profound, pictures of human life. 



294 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

At the basis of Scott's genius lay a broad, active, and 
comprehensive mind. He was eminently sane and clear 
gj^ott.g rather than subtle or profound. His sincerity 

Genius ^nd camestuess were among the best qualities 

of the man and among the most noteworthy traits of 
the writer. He had a wide range of artistic sympathy, 
and a remarkable power of objective portrayal. His abil- 
ity to excite and to represent the emotions was not pro- 
found, but it was intense and energetic. His geniality 
and humor helped to give a broadly human quality to his 
work. In certain powers of imagination, Scott has had 
few superiors. His imagination displayed remarkable 
vividness and lucidity, astonishing breadth and variety, 
power to construct large and complicated pictures, a mar- 
velous wealth of materials. The fact that he was a poet 
has given great beauty to his work as well as great power. 
He was an instinctive lover of the beautiful, both in nature 
and in art, but had a special fondness for beauty associ- 
ated with mystery and romance. Few men have been 
endowed with a more wonderful fluency and fertility, or 
with such a tremendous capacity for work. Scott was a 
very great literary genius ; but what crowns his fame, is 
that he was also a great character. The man was even 
broader and nobler than the artist. 

The relation of Scott to his age and to its great moving 
ideas is somewhat peculiar. He was in no sense a demo- 
crat, but rather an aristocrat. He had little sympathy with 
those revolutionary principles which so strongly moved 
Wordsworth and Coleridge and other great men of the 
time. It can hardly be said that he had any great enthusi- 
asm for individual freedom. His temperament was natu- 
rally conservative. His sympathies inclined to the side of 
order and of law. It seems at first sight as though he was 
entirely untouched by the influences that so profoundly 
affected other men. Yet Scott was too large and . too re- 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 295 

ceptive a nature to be wholly apart from his age, too sane 
and too sympathetic to set himself wholly in an attitude 
of antagonism. Consciously or unconsciously, he was a 
part of the general life of the time and moved g^ott's 
with its main currents. The age was individu- individualism 
alistic ; and — in spite of some limitations — so was Scott 
individualistic. In the first place, he was himself an origi- 
nal, forceful, and aggressive personality, making his way by 
sheer power of genius and character to one of the fore- 
most positions in his time — to one of the foremost posi- 
tions in all time. Again, conservative though he was, he 
was by no means a classicist or a reactionary in literature. 
He exercised the right to work out his own native genius 
in his own original way, and became a leader in the new 
romantic movement and in the creation of a new type of 
fiction. Romanticism itself, as we have seen again and 
again, was in this age one of the manifestations of Individ- 
ualism ; and Scott helped on the individualistic movement 
by helping on that romantic movement which meant at 
bottom freedom of individual genius. Still further, Scott's 
was a tender, generous, chivalrous soul, which apart from 
all theory felt sympathy with the poor and oppressed, and 
recognized the essential worth of common men. He con- 
sorted on equal terms with peasant and lord, denied no 
man his rights, and acknowledged his fellowship with all 
human kind. His poems and novels prefer the knight, the 
hero, the fair and noble dame ; but they also have a place 
for even the serf, the beggar, and the outcast; and no- 
where in literature have all kinds and conditions of men 
received more sympathetic treatment. Such a man, whether 
he willed it or not, was in essential harmony with the 
great modern principle of Individualism. 

In a very different way, the influence of this same prin- 
ciple was illustrated in the work of another great novelist 
of the time — Jane Austen. If Scott was the prince of 



296 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

romanticists in his generation, Jane Austen might not in- 
aptly be called the princess of realists. Born and brought 
up in a small country parish in the South of Eng- 
land, she had very little knowledge of life outside 
of a narrow circle ; but her peculiar genius found even within 
that limited range opportunity for some of the best work 
in the English novel. She dealt almost exclusively with 
characters drawn from the respectable middle class of 
English society, and portrayed these in the most ordinary 
relations of life. 

Her first impulse seems to have been received from an 
inchnation to satirize in a mild way the exaggerated ro- 
mantic type of terror fiction represented by Mrs. Rad- 
cHffe toward the close of the eighteenth century. This 
appears especially in her first novel, Northanger 
Abbey. In Sense and Sensibility, the very title 
suggests the contrast between her own common-sense 
view of life and the affected sentimentalism prevalent 
in the work of her predecessors. Her next novel, Pride 
and Prejudice, is usually regarded as her masterpiece and 
is thoroughly typical of her manner. Its characters are 
people of the most ordinary sort, and only the ordinary 
aspects of their lives are portrayed. There is not a 
single exciting incident from beginning to end of the 
book. The characters, however, are portrayed with a 
delicate and minute realism that makes them actually alive 
to the imagination ; and the picture of life is so true and so 
just as to create a positive illusion. Nothing of the kind 
has ever been done better than the delineation of the 
various members of the Bennet family and the more or 
less important personages who surround them. The theme 
of the novel is the conflict between the " prejudice " of 
EHzabeth Bennet and the " pride " of her lover, whose 
scorn of her rather commonplace family she very 
properly resents. Her other novels, Mansfield Park^ 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 297 

EmmUy and Persuasion^ are of essentially the same 
type. 

Her plots are simple and grow naturally out of the 
characters and their ordinary relations ; but incidents as 
well as characters are handled with perfect sure- 
ness of touch and with the perfect mastery of 
assured knowledge. Nothing is more admirable than this 
perfect command of her material and of her artistic method. 
One of the fine points of her art is her skill in the treatment 
of conversation. The characters are made to reveal them- 
selves through their own words, and the author seems 
always able to find the precise expression that accurately 
fits the character and the occasion. She is possessed 
withal of a neat humor and of a satirical touch that is 
half malicious. Her style is an almost perfect instrument 
for her purpose — simple, clear, quiet, precise, keen, sug- 
gestive, mildly ironical. 

Jane Austen was no theorist. She had no great principle 
to demonstrate. She had simply a clearly defined bit of 
human life to portray. If she connects herself with the 
great movement of the age, she does so unconsciously 
and indirectly through the quality of the work which was 
suggested to her by her own genius. Yet such a con- 
nection is clear and unmistakable. If we interpret this as 
mainly a romantic age, she is entirely apart from Herindi- 
its central current. If we regard it as chiefly the viduaUsm 
age of Individualism, we shall see that the art which 
could find fit material for great literature in the fife to 
be observed from the windows of a country parsonage 
was no mean servant and ally of the individualistic spirit. 
And here is the significant fact — that the mighty impulse 
of Individualism which could inspire a Wordsworth or a 
Coleridge to scale the highest heaven of imagination, 
or a Scott to traverse the far fields of romance, could find 
quite as natural an expression in inspiring this humble 



298 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

woman to portray with her delicate pencil the homely 
features of common life. 

In the case of George Gordon, Lord Byron, there is 

no need to seek closely or far for his relation to the age 

or his manifestation of the individualistic spirit. 

Lord Byron: , ^ 

Msindi- He carried to the wildness of extreme the 
VI ua sm impulses which were driving the age on its for- 
ward way. He manifested in his character, in his life, 
in his poetry, and in his governing ideas and passions, 
the very type of the free human spirit in revolution against 
the whole order and framework of society. We have 
suggested that Wordsworth was a sublime egotist in making 
his own spiritual experience the subject of so much of 
his poetry. Byron was quite as great an egotist, if some- 
what less sublime. He wrote about himself, not from any 
profound conviction that his experience was typical and 
that he had through himself a great message to convey to 
mankind, but because his passionate heart felt an impe- 
rious necessity to utter itself in words and because he 
wished to fling his own personal bitterness and scorn 
and pride and defiance in the face of the world. It is 
this in part that has limited the extent of his fame. So 
far as he was simply an individual man calling upon 
other men to listen to his own passing griefs or chal- 
lenging the tyrannous conventions of a society which also 
must pass and change, so far he was merely " of an age " 
and not " for all time " — so far he retains interest chiefly 
for the people of other nations which have yet to accom- 
plish the struggle for individual freedom which in Eng- 
land has long been won. This helps to account for the 
fact that his fame is probably much higher to-day on 
the continent than in his own land. Only so far as his 
personality was broadly human and typical, as his poetic 
genius was rich and powerful, as his ideas were indi- 
vidualistic in a sense larger than that of mere personal 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 299 

revolt against an uncomfortable system — only so far will 
he really remain in the first rank of English poets. And 
this, in spite of many limitations, they actually were. 
Byron is the representative poet of a revolutionary age ; 
but he is also in a large sense the poet of the passionate, 
restless, gladiatorial soul of man. 

To understand Byron's attitude, we must understand 
something of his life and character. He was born of a 
noble family whose haughty pride and passion- Byron's Life 
ateness of temperament came down to him by and character 
natural inheritance. His father was wild, dissipated, 
and unprincipled. His mother was a woman of quick 
and ungoverned passions whose relation to her son was 
like that of a lioness to her cub — alternately tender 
and savage. The defiant spirit of the boy was early 
awakened, never to sleep again until it slept forever. At 
ten, he became a lord, and the fact naturally worked to 
increase his arrogance, his self-esteem, and his ambition. 
At the end of a school career at Harrow and of a university 
career at Cambridge, he was a brilliant, fearless, athletic, 
and strikingly handsome youth, with an unmatched per- 
sonal charm and with extraordinary personal force. A 
club-foot was the one physical defect that embittered his 
proud heart. It is in some sense symbolical of the spiritual 
deficiency that marred his splendid and gifted nature. He 
published his youthful poems at nineteen under the title of 
Hours of Idleness. The sarcastic ridicule with which they 
were received touched Byron's pride to the quick ; and two 
years later, he took a signal revenge on his critics in 
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. It is in allusion to 
this deserved chastisement that Shelley says in Adonais : 

The Pythian of the age one arrow sped, 
And smiled! The spoilers tempt no second blow, 
They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low. 

The incident is in many respects typical of Byron's char- 



300 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

acter and literary career. In 1809 he set out for two 
years of travel in Spain, Italy, Albania, Turkey, Greece, 
and the ^gean Islands, and returned with the first two 
Literary cantos of CJiUde Hawld' s Pilgrimage, a poem 

Work which reflected his romantic experiences. It 

immediately made his reputation. He said, " I awoke 
one morning and found myself famous." For some three 
years he was the literary lion of London, winning the 
public from Scott's poetry by such Oriental romances as 
The Giaonr, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair, Lara, The 
Siege of Corijith, and Paidsina. In 181 5 Byron separated 
from his wife after a year of union. The circumstances 
have never been fully known ; but the public agreed 
in laying the blame upon him, and he was practically 
forced to leave England. He did so in 18 16, never to 
return alive. Taking up his residence in Italy, he con- 
tinued there his literary work. To this period belongs 
the great poetry which made him famous throughout 
Europe. The close of his life is finely characteristic of 
the man on his nobler side. Throwing himself with gen- 
erous enthusiasm into the war for the liberation of Greece 
from Turkish oppression, he was seized with a fever, and 
died at Missolonghi in 1824, in his thirty-seventh year. 

Perhaps the most striking feature of Byron's poetry is 
its intense subjectivity. Frankly and freely, he makes 
Byron's himsclf the subject of his verse, and pours out 

Subjectivity jj^^-q \^ ^jg personal passion and experience. 
Even where he is dealing — as he very often does — with 
some imaginary hero, that hero is seldom anything more 
than a reflection of the poet himself. This is true of his 
earlier Oriental tales and of the first two cantos of Childe 
Harold. It is perhaps even more true of the poems 
Childe written after his final departure from England. 

Harold Childe Harold, for instance, is continued through 

two cantos more, far superior to their predecessors ; and 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 301 

in these later cantos, the thin mask is dropped, and 
Byron and Childe Harold are practically one and the 
same. Byron relates poetically the story of his journey- 
ings to the field of Waterloo, up the Rhine, through 
Switzerland, and over Italy. He gives utterance to his 
thought and feeling concerning himself, mankind, and the 
world of nature. The passionate individualism of his 
poetic purpose is thus finely expressed : 

'Tis to create, and in creating live 
A being more intense, that we endow 
With form our fancy, gaining as we give 
The life we image, even as I do now. 

It was not merely to enlarge and intensify their own 
personal being that such poets as Chaucer and Shake- 
speare created ; but there could be no better description 
of the moving poetic impulse of Byron. He dealt 
with himself in order to give expression to all that 
was seething in his great heart and brain. He dealt 
with mankind in order to define his relation to other 
men and to show his own splendid isolation. He dealt 
with nature in order to find his energy and his despair 
reflected in her fiercer and darker moods. Addressing 
the elements of the subsiding tempest, he cries : 

The far roll 
Of your departing voices, is the knoll 
Of what in me is sleepless. 

His fierce desire for utterance is voiced in this tre- 
mendous passage : 

Could I embody and unbosom now 
That which is most within me, — could I wreak 
My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw 
Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak. 
All that I would have sought, and all I seek, 
Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into one word, 
And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; 



302 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

But as it is, I live and die unheard, 
With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword. 

Bold, strong, and impressive as his utterance was, no powers 
of human language — nothing but the elemental forces 
of nature — were adequate to match that which still lay 
unexpressed in his soul. 

Byron tried to be a dramatist ; but he had no power 
to portray real human life outside of himself. Again 
Dramatic ^^^ heroes are mere reflections of certain as- 
work pects of his own personality. In dramas like 

Manfred and Caiuy he embodies his own spirit of defi- 
ance and his own yearning for complete self-realization. 
Nothing could be more completely individualistic — could 
more defiantly challenge the rights of the individual 
soul as over against human society or any other power 
in earth or heaven or hell. The guilty Manfred, from 
his wild fastness in the Alps, defies humanity, and in 
the hour of death, cries to the evil spirits who come to 
seize him : 

Back, ye baffled fiends ! 
The hand of death is on me — but not yours ! 

Even death can not tame him ; for when the Abbot calls 
upon him to utter "yet one prayer," his only answer 
is : 

Old man! 'tis not so difficult to die. 

The guilty Cain, remorseful for the first murder, yet finds 
it possible to challenge the wisdom of God in allowing 
evil in the world and to justify his own spirit of hatred. 
Surely the assertion of individuaUsm could go no further. 
It is set above social order, above human sympathy, above 
submission to the divine will. Here is the assertion of 
Liberty and Equality, but hardly the recognition of Fra- 
ternity. 

It is natural that so subjective a writer as Byron should 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 303 

have been a lyric poet. In the lyric is the true field for 
the expression of personal passion. Byron was t „ p t 
a genuine lyrist, although the gift of pure song 
was not his most characteristic gift. He was capable at 
times of a sweetness of music that all but matches the 
finest. Some of his Hebrew Melodies and Stanzas for 
Music are really exquisite, although not quite as charac- 
teristic as the grander roll of his verse in Childe Harold. 
What Byron was most capable of giving to the lyric, how- 
ever, was not so much sweetness as fire and energy. In 
this, few poets have been his equals. We shall also ex- 
pect to find his lyrics charged with the personal quality 
that so strongly marks all his other poetry. Here he 
reflected his transient moods and momentary emotions, 
though not seldom there is gathered up into a single 
poem much of the larger significance of his life. One of 
the best-known poems associated with his life experiences 
is Fare thee well, in which he expresses his grief at parting 
from his wife : 

Fare thee well ! and if for ever, 

Still for ever, fare thee v^ell : 
Even though unforgiving, never 

'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 

More intense, more passionate, more filled with the 
bitterness and the weariness of his disappointed life, is 
the poem written on his thirty-sixth birthday. Profoundly, 
even terribly, pathetic are such words : 

My days are in the yellow leaf; 

The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; 
The worm, the canker, and the grief 

Are mine alone ! 

Byron's death knell seems to sound in the last stanza : 

Seek out — less often sought than found — 
A soldier's grave, for thee the best ; 



304 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

Then look around, and choose thy ground, 
And take thy rest. 

In less than three months he was dead. 

It has sometimes been questioned whether Byron's 
characteristic attitude toward life was entirely sincere, or 
Byron's whether it was a mere poetic affectation. The 

Sincerity truth probably lies somewhere between the two 
extremes. Something there was doubtless of tragic pose ; 
but in the main it was real expression of real experience. 
The melancholy is too thoroughly a part of the very tex- 
ture of his poetry and that poetry itself is too great and 
vital for us to believe that he was merely playing a part. 
Whatever else he may have been, the man was not a hypo- 
crite. Indeed, he was altogether too frank in his self-dis- 
closure — unlocked his heart to the extent of desecrating 
its inner sanctities. If he sometimes adds blackness to 
the gloom, in other places he lets us see the lighter, more 
frivolous, more cynical side of his nature. 

Of all his poems, the one that represents him best is 
Don Juan. It is an extremely voluminous work, in sixteen 
^ ^ cantos ; but it was not completed and was prob- 

Don Juan ' ^ ^ 

ably incapable of completion. In that respect, 
it was like Byron's life, so full and yet so fragmentary. 
Much of Byron's experience is poured out into the poem, 
as in Childe Harold. Don Juan is another embodiment of 
the poet, on his most cynical and least moral side. Again 
we have a poem of individualism — man riding over all 
convention, all decency, all better human feeling, to satisfy 
his own desire. It is as if Byron would show men that 
their best and holiest feelings are mere dust and ashes. 
Into this mocking satire are gathered up all the powers 
of his genius — his passion, his intensity, his lyric music, 
his marvelous faculty of poetic description, his rhetorical 
eloquence, his vivid imagination, his pathos, his wit, his 
sarcasm, his irony, his cynicism, his scorn, his despair, 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 305 

and all else that went to make up that strange but tre- 
mendous personality. 

With the name of Byron as an eager and enthusiastic 
son of revolution is associated the name of Percy Bysshe 
Shelley. The underlying causes of this revolu- pg^cy Bysshe 
tionary spirit in the two men were, however, sheiiey 
very different. Byron was a revolutionist by temperament 
— because his fierce and imperious nature could brook no 
control. Shelley was a revolutionist because he was an 
idealist and a lover of humanity. His revolt sprang from 
generous impulse rather than from well-reasoned convic- 
tion, and his theories were as impracticable as they were 
extreme. They were the theories of a poet and a child ; 
and what is crude and excessive in them must be forgiven 
as mere accidents of his peculiar genius. Shelley was, in- 
deed, in his own words, a spirit " tameless, and swift, and 
proud " ; but he had the irresponsible wildness of his own 
spirit of the west wind rather than the tigerlike fierceness 
of Byron's nature. None the less was Shelley a remark- 
able and unique personality, a great individual in an age 
of Individualism. A supreme idealist, a poet of poets, a 
prince of romance, a lover of nature, a child of dreams, an 
enthusiast of humanity, to him was applicable in no com- 
mon measure the description of Tennyson : 

The poet in a golden clime was born, 

With golden stars above ; 
Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, 

The love of love. 

They understood him well who wrote his epitaph in the 
New Protestant Cemetery at Rome, *' Cor Cordium " — 
Heart of Hearts. 

The life of Shelley held much that calls for the world's 
charity ; but it also affords a rare example of fidelity to an 
ideal. Born in 1792, he breathed from his earliest years 
the atmosphere of a revolutionary time. When he went 



306 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

to Eton, his proud and sensitive spirit showed itself in 
rebellion against the boyish tyrannies and the rough 
sports of a great public school. At nineteen 
he was expelled from Oxford for publishing a 
pamphlet on The Necessity of Atheism. His rash mar- 
riage with Harriet Westbrook grew out of an impulse of 
generous pity, and was naturally followed by disappoint- 
ment and separation. Association with William Godwin, 
the social reformer and novelist, brought him into acquaint- 
ance with the latter's daughter ; and he soon found in 
Mary Godwin a congenial life companion. By this time, 
Shelley had succeeded in shocking public opinion and in 
setting himself at odds with his own eminently respectable 
family. He therefore left England with his wife, never 
to return. The remaining four years of his life were 
spent mostly in Italy. Here his genius rapidly matured, 
and here most of his greatest poems were produced. This 
life — so fervid, so erratic, so unselfish, so exalted — was 
brought to a sudden and tragic close. In the summer of 
1822, while sailing from Leghorn to Spezia in his boat, 
the Ariel, he was overtaken by a storm and drowned. 
His body was burned on the beach, and his ashes were 
buried in the Protestant Cemetery at Rome. 

If idealism is the explanation of Shelley's revolutionary 
spirit and the secret of his life, it is even more emphat- 
sheiiey's ically the inspiration of his poetic genius. No 
Genius ^0^1 lived SO much in a world of dreams. None 

was characterized by a poetic fancy so ethereal, so eva- 
nescent, so elusive, so impalpable. His imaginings are 
woven of air and fire. They change and vanish and re- 
shape themselves like a cloud ; they are touched by sudden 
glories as of the sunset ; they are as delicate as the " girdle 
of pearl " about the moon. Nothing can describe them 
but themselves. There is in Shelley no such clear and 
definite presentation of common fact as we find in Words- 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 307 

worth, no such concrete realization of poetic dreams as we 
find in Coleridge, no such effective rhetorical eloquence as 
we find in Byron. His is the pure essence of poetry and 
appeals to us by no other charm than that of poetic 
beauty, except it be the charm of his lovable personality. 
The haunting melody of his verse, the poetic enchantment 
of his beautiful imagery, seem like some magic caught 
from other worlds, and yet they seem as natural as nature 
itself. For there is no apparent artifice — only the un- 
consciously beautiful expression of a beautiful soul. Yet, 
in spite of all his wonderful achievement, Shelley seems 
to be trying to express the inexpressible. The grossness 
of flesh, the imperfection of language, the inadequacy of 
any earthly music, hinder and retard the utterance of the 

spirit. 

Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, 
Stains the white radiance of eternity. 

Shelley was preeminently a lyric poet. He wrote many 
poems in narrative and dramatic form, but he was a singer 
rather than a story-teller or a portray er of life His Lyric 
and character. It is not too much to declare Poetry 
that he was the greatest pure lyrist in English literature. 
This means in the first place that he had an unsurpassed 
gift of poetic music. It means further that he had a pas- 
sionate heart, and knew how to pour out the richness of a 
great nature in passionate speech. It means still further 
that his poetry is intensely subjective and brings us into 
contact with a rare personality. In form, his poetry is 
finished and exquisite, and yet it has all the careless ease 
of a singing bird. The poet's delight in his music some- 
times amounts almost to ecstasy. Almost everywhere in 
Shelley's poetry this lyric erift is illustrated ; 

1 1 , 1 r r 1 . 1-1 The Cloud 

but he has left a few supreme lyrics which may 

serve as examples of the rest. The Cloud is a wonderful 

illustration of Shelley's imaginative, as well as of his 



308 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

musical, power. The cloud itself sings and exults in its own 
glorious, ever changing life. It brings fruitfulness to the 
earth ; it commands the powers of snow and tempest ; it 
creates the beauties of sunrise and sunset ; it companions 
with moon and stars ; it has the rainbow for its triumphal 
arch. Immortal and indestructible, it rejoices : 

I change, but I cannot die. 

To a Skylark is one of Shelley's finest examples of natural 
but inimitable music. Like the bird itself, the 
poet pours his "full heart" 

In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

Its exultant song suggests contrast with his own imperfect 
life, and he cries : 

Teach me half the gladness 

That thy brain must know ; 
Such harmonious madness 
From my lips would flow 
The world should Hsten then as I am listening now. 

Surely the world has listened to his own diviner song, 
not out of the heart of gladness, but out of the heart of 
The West sorrow. In the Ode to the West Wmd thQre is 
^^^^ this same yearning for something seemingly be- 

yond his grasp. The poem is an amazing piece of musical 
and imaginative description. Shelley enters into the very 
spirit of the invisible wind, and longs to share the impulse 
of its strength. Touched by the anguish of life, he utters 
the prayer that seems almost like a prophecy : 

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, 
Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth ; 

And, by the incantation of this verse, 

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth 

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind ! 
Be through my lips to unawakened earth 

The trumpet of a prophecy ! 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 309 

There is apparent in these words, not only a personal 
pain, but also the longing to awaken mankind to a realiza- 
tion of the poet's dreams for the betterment of 
the world. Stanzas writteft in Dejection near ^^J^^^^^oo 
Naples is one of Shelley's most perfect poems. Nature is 
described in all her loveliness, and the poet allows no sor- 
row of his to cast a stain upon her beauty. In her 
presence, " despair itself is mild," and he sings : 

I could lie down like a tired child, 

* * * * and hear the sea 
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. 

Such music is beyond praise ; it calls only for illustration. 
It verily seems as though it had been taught to him by the 

]V^ other of this unfathomable world 

whom he addresses in his Alastor: 

I wait thy breath, Great Parent ; that my strain 
May modulate with murmurs of the air, 
And motions of the forests and the sea, 
And voice of living beings, and woven hymns 
Of night and day, and the deep heart of man. 

Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude, is a narrative poem in 
blank verse, describing the wanderings of the poet in 
search of ideal beauty in the person of a lovely 
dream maiden. It' is typical of Shelley's own 
effort to capture in his poetry a more than earthly beauty. 
Alastor travels amid sublime and beautiful solitudes of 
nature, borne up in all dangers and distresses by the in- 
spiration of his great quest, and after fruitless and despair- 
ing search, lies down at last to die amid the lonehness of 
nature. All the gloom and sadness of Shelley's soul 
were poured out into the poem; but it splendidly illus- 
trates his love of nature, his worship of ideal beauty, the 
power of his creative imagination, and his superb command 



310 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

of the resources of expression. His powers are illustrated 
briefly in these lines from the description of Alastor's 
death : 

His last sight 
Was the great moon, which o'er the western Hne 
Of the wide world her mighty horn suspended, 
With whose dun beams inwoven darkness seemed 
To mingle. 

In Adonais, Shelley laments the early death of his friend 
and fellow-poet, John Keats. The poem ranks with 
Milton's Lycidas as one of the few great elegies 
of the language ; and considering its poetic 
quality, the nobility of its sentiment, its genuine personal 
grief, the interest of its subject, and the poetic friendship 
which it enshrines, there is no poem of its kind which 
claims a higher place in the world's regard. Written in 
the Spenserian stanza, it displays Shelley's mastery over 
that difficult form and displays still further that magic of 
music and inexhaustible richness of imagination which 
were his poetic birthright. He calls upon all things to 
mourn the great poet, so early dead — Urania the " mighty 
Mother," " the quick Dreams " born of his extinguished 
genius, 

Desires and Adorations ; 
Winged Persuasions, and veiled Destinies ; 
Splendours, and Glooms, and ghmmering incarnations 
Of Hopes and Fears, and twilight Fantasies ; 
And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs ; 
And Pleasure, blind with tears. 

All he had loved, and moulded into thought 

From shape and hue and odour and sweet sound. 
Lamented Adonais. 

So Hkewise the Morning, *'the melancholy Thunder," 
*' pale Ocean," " the wild Winds," " lost Echo," " the young 
Spring," Albion. At last, as though exhausted by the 
splendid effort of his own genius, the poet cries : 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 311 

The breath whose might I have invoked in song 

Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven 
Far from the shore, far from the trembhng throng 

Whose sails w^ere never to the tempest given. 

The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! 
I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar! 

Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of heaven, 
The soul of Adonais, like a star, 
Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. 

It seems almost like a prophecy ; for in the summer of the 
following year, Shelley's boat was overturned in a storm on 
the Mediterranean, and the poet was drowned at the age 
of thirty. 

All that was finest and noblest in Shelley's genius is 
gathered up into his great lyrical drama, PromethetLS Un- 
bound. Shelley had attempted dramatic work „ 

•' ^ Prometheus 

of a more ordinary kind, and, singularly enough, unbound 
had in The Cenci come as near as any of his great poetical 
contemporaries to real dramatic success. The actual world, 
however, was not his sphere ; and his powers found larger 
play in the ideal realm of Prometheus. Here his lyric gift 
is at its very finest — nowhere more subtle, more ethereal, 
more full of unearthly music. His idealizing power is 
here carried to the extreme. We are in a world of spirits, 
where anything is possible that the imagination may choose. 
And Shelley's imagination has chosen to symbolize here 
his revolutionary ideals and his dreams for the happiness 
of man. The Titan Prometheus, representative of human- 
ity, is chained for ages to the frozen rocks of the Caucasus 
by the tyrant Zeus. At last, in the fulness of time, the 
deliverance comes. '' Demogorgon, a tremendous gloom," 
arises from the place where he has awaited the hour of 
fate, hurls Zeus from his throne, and sets Prometheus free. 
Then all nature unites with man in the joy of the glorious 
deliverance. It is an impracticable dream ; but at the very 
heart of it there is divine truth as well as some of the 



312 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

most marvelous lyric music ever written. When Prome- 
theus forgives Zeus and calls back his curse, then only 
does the hour of final deliverance come. When the op- 
pressed can rise to the height of forgiving his oppressor, 
then he has conquered indeed. Forgiveness is the secret 
and crown of Victory. Such is the truth that Shelley 
teaches, and it is thus he expresses his sublime ideal : 

To suffer woes which hope thinks infinite ; 
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night ; 

To defy power which seems omnipotent ; 
To love and bear ; to hope till hope creates 
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates ; 

Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent ; 
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be 
Good, great, and joyous, beautiful and free ; 
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory! 

The name of John Keats is usually associated with the 
names of Byron and Shelley. Like his great compeers, 
Keats was a marvelous child of genius, and like them he 
died an early death in a foreign land. He was, indeed, 
John Keats the latest born and the earliest dead of the three 
— the youngest poet that ever left so great a 
name among the immortals. The facts of his life are 
not of much importance ; for his literary work is at an 
opposite extreme from that of Byron and has compara- 
tively little dependence upon external events. A first 
book of Poems was published in 18 17, and the next 
year saw the appearance of his Endymion. All of this 
was comparatively immature work, and Keats recognized 
that fact as well as anybody. The next three years showed 
a wonderful development and gave evidence of the poet 
that might have been, could he but have had a longer lease 
of life. A volume pubUshed in 1820 contained the master- 
work of his life, a group of poems among the most perfect 
in the English language. Then he hastened to Italy in a 
vain pursuit of health. He died at Rome in 1821, only 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 313 

twenty-five years of age. He was buried in the Old Prot- 
estant Cemetery, near where Shelley was so soon to lie. 
His epitaph — suggested by himself — reads, "Here lies 
one whose name was writ in water." No name in English 
literature was written to endure longer. 

As Scott among the older trio of poets was least in 
harmony with the great tendencies of the age, so among 
the younger group Keats stands somewhat aloof. More 
than any other poet of his time, he is independent of the 
great life currents, though even he cannot help Keats and 
being borne along on the wave. Perhaps his ^^^^^e 
comparative isolation was in part due to his extreme youth, 
to the fact that life had not yet deeply touched and moved 
his poetic nature. Shelley, to be sure, had been stirred by 
revolutionary ideas long before he was twenty ; but Shelley 
was. an astonishingly precocious youth, and there were, be- 
sides, certain circumstances of his Hfe that help to account 
for his early interest in great movements. The position of 
Keats, however, was even more due to his peculiar charac- 
ter and genius. He had no taste for politics, for social 
questions, for philosophical problems, for purely ab- 
stract ideas. He was born to be simply a poet. His 
only great passion was for beauty. That, he desired to 
find and to express, and he was quite willing to leave the 
tasks of the world and the problems of the mind to others. 
It is on the side of his purely jDoetical genius, therefore, 
that we must seek any possible association between Keats 
and the life of his age. 

We have already seen the kind of literature which the 
individualistic movement was likely to produce ; and if 
we examine the poetry of Keats, we shall find it in har- 
mony with that movement on its purely poetical _ ^ ^. .^ 

■' ... His Individ- 

side, though, of course, with many distmctive uaiistic 
marks of his own personal genius. He was "^ ^ 
one of the great romantic poets of his time, seeking 



314 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

his finest inspiration, not so much in the mediaevalism 
of Scott, in the Orientalism of Byron, in the poetic 
ideaUsm of Shelley, or in the psychological wonder-world 
of Coleridge, as in the pure and perfect beauty of an- 
cient Greece. He was touched by something of the same 
interests as the other poets, but in the main his way 
was his own. He was likewise one of the great nature 
poets of his time.. It was not his business to find spiritual 
meanings in nature with Wordsworth, to idealize her in 
the magic light of his own fancy with Shelley, or to pour 
out his own soul into her with Byron. He was content to 
look at her by her own light and to reveal to unseeing 
eyes her marvelous beauty. It used to be supposed that 
Keats was a mere weakling, and that he was practically 
killed by ungenerous criticism of his work — that his soul, 
in Byron's phrase, was " snuffed out by an article." There 
is, however, much reason to suppose that quite the con- 
trary is the case — that he had some decidedly pugnacious 
elements in his nature, that he accepted even cruel criticism 
like a man and made his immortal profit of it, that he 
had within him strong intellectual and moral qualities 
which might eventually have placed him in the very front 
rank of English poets. What seems fairly certain is that 
he had that superb assurance of genius which makes it go 
its own way regardless of criticism or current fashion or 
great example. In the form and method of his work, he 
was decidedly original. In the spirit of it, he was in uncon- 
scious harmony with the -other great poets of his age. 
It seems probable that in the last analysis beauty is the 
supreme object of all poetry — simply as poetry. What- 
The Apostle ^^er may be true in other cases, it is certainly 
of Beauty ^j-^g ^]^^|- beauty is the essential quality in the 
poetry of John Keats. It could hardly be otherwise. 
Keats was a passionate lover of the beautiful, in nature, 
in human life; in the ideal world of imagination. H€ 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 315 

began by loving sensuous beauty, and on the side of the 

senses he was marvelously alive and receptive. He cried, 

O for a life of sensations rather than of thoughts ! 

It is told of him that " he once covered his tongue and 
throat as far as he could reach with Cayenne pepper, in 
order to appreciate the delicious coldness of claret in all 
its glory." He spoke of " bursting the grape of joy 
against one's palate fine." He said, " I feel the daisies 
growing over my grave." Yet Keats was not, as some 
have supposed, merely the poet of the senses. He loved 
sensuous beauty, but he was going on also to love the 
beauty that is intellectual and spiritual ; and it is this 
that gives us the fairest promise that he might have 
been am.ong the very highest, as he is among the most 
exquisite, of pure poets. His Endymion begins with the 
words : 

A thing of beauty is a joy forever : 

Its loveliness increases ; it will never 

Pass into nothingness. 

Such, he tells us, are all the lovely forms of nature ; but he 
adds : 

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 
We have imagined for the mighty dead ; 
All lovely tales that we have heard or read : 
An endless fountain of immortal drink, 
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. 

This already, in one of his earlier and most sensuous 
poems, is something more than merely sensuous. In 
Hyperion, he rises to a larger sweep of thought, and 
declares : 

For 'tis the eternal law 
That first in beauty should be first in might. 

In the Ode on a Grecian Urn, he has this word of pro- 
found poetic insight: 



3l6 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

Beauty is truth, truth beauty, — that is all 
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. 

To such a poet, beauty was surely something more than 
merely a matter of the senses. He had the right to de- 
clare, " I have loved the principle of beauty in all things." 
It is this love of beauty as a great principle of the world 
that gives to his poetry its largest significance. 

In one way or another, all of Keats's poetry is an illus- 
tration of this principle. The poems in his volume of 1820 
Narrative embody it in fullest and richest measure. The 
Poems £^j.g^ q£ these, Lamia, is the story of the beauti- 

ful enchantress whom the philosopher Apollonius discovers 
in her original nature of a serpent and causes to vanish. 
The protest of Keats against the pure reason that would 
banish all poetic illusion is thus finely expressed : 

Do not all charms fly 
At the mere touch of cold philosophy? 
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven : 
We know her woof, her texture ; she is given 
In the dull catalogue of common things. 
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, 
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, 
Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine — 
Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made 
The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade. 

It is the characteristic attitude of poets Hke Keats to- 
ward the spirit of modern science. Isabella, or the Pot 
of Basil, is a romantic and pathetic love story from Boc- 
caccio. The Eve of St. Agnes is his most perfect piece of 
narrative and description. The bitter winter night, the 
aged Beadsman saying his prayers in the cold chapel, the 
palsy-stricken old serving-woman, the boisterous revelry in 
the mediaeval castle, the fierceness of "the whole blood-thirsty 
race " into whose precincts the adventurous lover Porphyro 
has come, form a marvelously effective background for 
the beautiful and voluptuous picture of youthful love. The 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 317 

poem is rich and warm and vivid ; and yet it is a perfectly 
modeled masterpiece of the most consummate art. 

Following these narrative poems in the 1820 volume are 
Keats's wonderful odes. Three of these must serve for 
brief comment. The Ode to a NigJitingale is j. • p 
among the most personal of the poet's works. 
The sadness and weariness of his own heart are contrasted 
with the song of the unseen bird: 

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! 

No hungry generations tread thee down ; 
The voice I hear this passing night was heard 

In ancient days by emperor and clown ; 
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, 
She stood in tears amid the ahen corn ; 
The same that oft-times hath 
Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam 
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 

To Atittcmji is Keats's finest poem of nature. It is full of 
all the rich warmth and ''mellow fruitfulness " of the har- 
vest season, as perfectly unique in its kind as any of his 
narrative poems. In the Ode on a Gi'ecian Urn, he has 
given life to the " leaf-fringed legend " that " haunts about 
the shape " of this rehc from a beautiful past. It has much 
of the richness of his other work, but it has also caught 
something of the rare and chaste perfection which the 
classic subject suggests. 

Perhaps the noblest effort of the poet's genius is Hy- 
perion. The poem deals with the Greek myth of the fall 
of Saturn and the Titans, and was especially 

^ Hypenon 

to have treated of the triumph of the new sun- 
god Apollo over his predecessor, Hyperion. It was, how- 
ever, left a splendid fragment. Perhaps Keats felt that he 
was as yet unequal to a great epic task ; but the grandeur 
and simpHcity of what he did achieve certainly shows that 
his powers were rapidly strengthening and broadening. 



3l8 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

Shelley said, in his Preface to Adonais, " I consider the 
fragment of Hyperion, as second to nothing that was ever 
produced by a writer of the same years." The remark 
might be applied to all Keats's poetry. Feeling the powers 
that were still undeveloped within him, he once said, " I 
think I shall be among the English poets after my death." 
Matthew Arnold adds, '' He is ; he is with Shakespeare." 

So far we have been dealing mainly with the poets, and 
have touched upon the prose literature of the time only 
with reference to the prose writings of Coleridge and the 
novels of Scott and Miss Austen. The age was chiefly a 
poetical one ; but it had, nevertheless, some notable masters 
of prose style. One of the most gifted, as well as one of 
the most lovable, of these was Charles Lamb. 

r es am ^^iQ age in which Lamb lived was one of unique 
and not seldom imposing literary personalities. It can 
hardly be said that Lamb was an imposing figure ; but he 
certainly was sufficiently unique. Eccentricity is the 'mark 
of his thought ; quaintness is the mark of his style. He 
is one of the most delightful humorists in the literature ; 
but the effect of his humor is qualified by a tenderness 
which deepens into pathos and by a sweetness which gives 
him a most human charm. He was a blue-coat boy with 
Coleridge at Christ's Hospital in London, and the later 
friendship of the two doubtless meant much for the 
development of Lamb's literary interests and powers. 
Shortly after leaving school. Lamb was appointed to a 
clerkship in the East India House, and remained in that 
position until he was fifty, when he was retired on a pen- 
sion. His life was comparatively uneventful, except for 
the pathetic fits of insanity of his beloved sister Mary. 
Lamb's devotion to her was lifelong, and he never mar- 
ried. 

Lamb's literary career began before the close of the 
eighteenth century, but his first note_worthy work was th^ 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 319 

Tales from Shakespeare, written in conjunction with his 
sister. It was a child's book, and Lamb's simple Lamb's 
and unaffected nature was admirably adapted to "^"*^°es 
a task which in other hands might have proved an unfortu- 
nate experiment. This venture was soon followed by his 
Specimens of English Dramatic Poets. He ranged the 
whole field of Elizabethan drama outside of Shakespeare, 
and presented some extracts from later dramatists. His 
selections are admirable, and his critical comments are 
sympathetic, subtle, and acute. Lamb was an enthusiast 
for the old dramatists, and succeeded in communicating 
his enthusiasm to others. His book did much to quicken 
interest in many half-forgotten writers and to revive their 
fame. Such work as this, of course, allied itself with the 
romantic movement and helped to extend its influence. 
Lamb was also much interested in the early seventeenth- 
century prose-writers, such as Burton, Fuller, Sir Thomas 
Browne, and Jeremy Taylor ; and their style had much 
influence upon his own. This influence, however, was 
thoroughly assimilated, and Lamb's style is quite indi- 
vidual and unique. Nowhere are the qualities of this style 
better displayed than in the so-called Essays of Elia, his 
most original and distinguished work. In these Essays of 
altogether delightful productions, his mind and ^^^ 
heart are reflected as in a clear mirror. The subjects, ex- 
ceedingly varied, show the scope of Lamb's interests out- 
side of the literary field. They range from " Mrs. Battle's 
Opinions on Whist" to "The Praise of Chimney-S weepers," 
from "Witches and other Night Fears" to "A Bachelor's 
Complaint of the Behaviour of Married People," from 
" Poor Relations " to " The Tombs in the Abbey," from 
" Modern Gallantry " to " Old China." In " Dream-Chil- 
dren : a Reverie," his imagination conjures up two children 
that might have been his ; but as they vanish, they seem 
to say : "We are not of Alice, nor of thee, nor are we chil- 



320 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

dren at all. The children of Alice call Bartrum father. 
We are nothing ; less than nothing, and dreams. We are 
only what might have been, and must wait upon the tedious 
shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence, 
and a name." Perhaps the finest of his essays is the 
famous " Dissertation upon Roast Pig." It is filled with 
all Lamb's quaintness and with all his humor. Through- 
out the whole series of essays, his manner is most personal 
and intimate ; and it is largely because he comes so close 
to the heart of his reader that Lamb is the most charm- 
ing and attractive of all English essayists. He is a unique 
personality uniquely expressed. 

No less unique, though in a vastly different way, was 
Thomas De Quincey. " In general," he declares, "a man 
has reason to think himself well off in the great lottery of 
this life if he draws the prize of a healthy stomach without 
Thomas De 3- mind, or the prize of a fine intellect with a 
Quincey crazy stomach ; but that any man should draw 

both is truly astonishing, and, I suppose, happens only 
once in a century." De Quincey himself drew the fine 
intellect and the crazy stomach ; and this combination is 
in large measure the clue to an understanding of his life 
and work. His intellect, indeed, was almost abnormally 
active and acute, and was, moreover, of a quality so subtle, 
so refined, so unpractical, so purely contemplative, as to 
seem almost quite exceptional in the history of the English 
mind. His life was almost entirely a life of mental activ- 
ity ; and his hold upon the realities of the actual world was 
as slight as may well be conceived. He was in a certain 
sense of the word a voluptuary, but he was a voluptuary of 
the intellect and not of the senses. His pleasures were 
those of the imagination and of the analytic mind. He de- 
lighted in marvelous dreams of the fancy, and he delighted 
quite as much in the speculative processes of the pure rea- 
son. Such peculiarities as these at least hint at a character 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 32 1 

most singular and most strange ; and we may safely say 
that his age did not produce a more remarkable or a more 
strikingly individual personality. 

De Quincey's pecuHarities were in large part inborn, but 
in some measure the result of his life experience. Even 
on such a specimen of pure intellect as he, the reaUties of 
the world must needs show some reaction. As De Quincey's 
a child, he was remarkably precocious, and some ^^^® 
of the spiritual experiences that he records of his earliest 
childhood are credible only of such a nature as his. In his 
seventeenth year, he ran away from Manchester Grammar- 
School, made a pedestrian tour in Wales during which he 
suffered considerable exposure, and then went to London. 
His hardships and poverty brought him to the verge of 
starvation, and he was probably saved from death by a 
poor outcast whom he knew only as Anne. During this 
period, he contracted the opium habit which pursued him 
all his life. His London experiences constantly recurred 
in his later opium dreams. At last he was discovered by 
his family and soon after sent to Oxford. He received 
little from the University, and yet he was one of the most 
learned men of the age. Even as a boy, he could converse 
fluently in Greek, and later he had a remarkably wide 
knowledge of English literature. Indeed, his works are a 
standing evidence of the wonderful fulness as well as of 
the wonderful activity and power of his mind. After leav- 
ing the University, he took up his residence in the Lake 
District, and came to know intimately Wordsworth, Cole- 
ridge, and others of the great men of his time. He lived 
in the Lake District for some twenty years, and afterward 
near Edinburgh, where he died in 1859. The period of 
his mature life was comparatively uneventful, except for 
intellectual experiences and for the vicissitudes of his 
opium habit. 

De Quincey's first and greatest work was The Confessions 



322 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

of an English Opinm-Eater. In it he tells the story of his 
De Quincey's carly life, as leading up to the formation of the 
opium-Eater Qpjm^ habit. This occupies the larger part of 
the work, the rest of it being taken up by "The Pleasures 
of Opium " and "The Pains of Opium." De Quincey is very 
discursive, and, in fact, gives comparatively little description 
of his actual dreams. What he does give is extremely im- 
pressive. The dreams themselves were tremendous, and to 
convey an impression of them calls forth all the powers of 
his magnificent style. To suggest their vastness, he says : 

Thousands of years I lived and was buried in stone coffins, with mum- 
mies and sphinxes, in narrow chambers at the heart of eternal pyramids. 
I was kissed, with cancerous kisses, by crocodiles, and was laid, con- 
founded with all unutterable abortions, amongst reeds and Nilotic mud. 

The cursed crocodile became to me the object of more horror than 
all the rest. ... So often did this hideous reptile haunt my dreams 
that many times the very same dream was broken up in the very same 
way : I heard gentle voices speaking to me (I hear everything when I 
am sleeping), and instantly I awoke; it was broad noon, and my chil- 
dren were standing, hand in hand, at my bedside, come to show me 
their coloured shoes, or new frocks, or to let me see them dressed for 
going out. No experience was so awful to me, and at the same time 
so pathetic, as this abrupt translation from the darkness of the infinite 
to the gaudy summer air of highest noon, and from the unutterable 
abortions of miscreated gigantic vermin to the sight of infancy and 
innocent human natures. 

Nothing could be more effective for his purpose than such 
a contrast. A single further quotation must suffice : 

The sound was reverberated — everlasting farewells ! and again, and 
yet again reverberated — everlasting farewells ! And I awoke in strug- 
gles, and cried aloud, " I will sleep no more." 

The other works of De Quincey fill many volumes 
and cover an astonishingly wide range of subject-matter. 
Some of them are associated with his opium 
biographical dream s. Siispiria de Profundis is, in fact, a se- 
^"""^^ quel to the Confessiojis, and consists largely of 

sketches in "that vein of dream-phantasy" which charac- 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 323 

terizes the earlier work. The most famous of these is 
entitled " Levana and our Ladies of Sorrow." In it he 
images forth the profound grief of the heart through 
three mighty personifications — Our Lady of Tears, Our 
Lady of Sighs, and Our Lady of Darkness. The English 
Mail-Coach affords an admirable illustration of the way 
in which his dream world associates itself with reality. 
The first part, entitled "The Glory of Motion," is a highly 
imaginative description of real experience. " The Vision 
of Sudden Death" is an intensely vivid account of an 
accident in which the mail-coach had run down a small 
gig. This incident was taken up into De Quincey's 
dreams, and became the basis for the wonderful '' Dream- 
Fugue : founded on the preceding Theme of Sudden 
Death." Beyond such works as these, he wrote much 
else of an autobiographical character, covering his early 
life, his studies, and the period of his residence in the 
Lake District. Here he easily passed over into literary 
reminiscence and criticism, dealing with Wordsworth, 
Coleridge, Southey, and others. He was a defender of 
the so-called Lake School of poetry represented by these 
men and one of its most sympathetic and suggestive 
critics. In this way among others, he was allied with 
the new literary movements. 

It would be very far from the truth to suppose that De 
Quincey's writings were confined to himself or to his own 
personal circle. Indeed, no man's mind took a General 
wider range. In the field of literary criticism, ^^^^^ 
he deals with broad questions of literary theory — with 
language, with rhetoric, with style. He discusses Greek 
poets, prose-writers, orators, and dramatists. He treats 
great German poets and philosophers. He ranges the 
wide field of Enghsh literature, from Shakespeare to 
Wordsworth, from Milton to Pope — always cathoHc in 
his sympathies, always subtle in his insight. History and 



324 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

historical biography also attract his attention. His finest 
biographical essay, Joan of Arc, is a wonderful piece of 
imaginative writing. His most ambitious historical work 
is The CcBsars, but this is surpassed in fascinating interest 
by many of his briefer historical essays. The astonishing 
range of his interests and the equally amazing minuteness 
of his knowledge are suggested by such titles as The Cas- 
uistry of Roman Meals, Homer ajtd the Homeridce, Toilette 
of the Hebrew Lady, The Essenes, and The Flight of a 
Tartar Tribe. In the best of such works, the vividness 
of his imagination fully matches his gifts as a thinker and 
a scholar. This imaginative quahty is still further dis- 
played in his tales, romances, and fantasies. His roman- 
tic stories do not rank very high, except from the point of 
view of style ; but at least one of them, The Spanish Mil- 
itary Ntm, is a most charming combination of fancy, 
humor, and pathos. Nothing of De Quincey's is more 
characteristic than the extravaganza Ojt Mnrder consid- 
ered as one of the Fine Arts. Its original humor is a 
little gruesome to some people; but it is certainly a mas- 
terpiece of fantastic irony. The description of " three 
memorable cases of murder" in a '* postscript " matches 
in its vivid horror the ghastly humor of the supposed 
" lecture." It is to be noted finally that De Quincey la- 
bored much in a more purely intellectual field, producing 
essays philosophical and theological and a considerable 
volume on politics and political economy. These, how- 
ever, are rather beyond the range of pure literature. 

It is evident that this man of subtle intellect and mar- 
velously exact learning was also in some sense a poet — - 
a man of imagination, living in a world of his own crea- 
De Quincey's tion. He was a poet by virtue of his grand 
Genius ^^^ bcautiful couccptions ; he was almost a 

poet by virtue of his matchless style. This style is 
unique in the literature. It is not the poetic prose of the 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 325 

seventeenth century, although that perhaps is its nearest 
kin. It is at the opposite extreme from the clear, polished, 
and direct style of the eighteenth-century writers. It 
does not transgress the proper limits of prose, but ap- 
proaches poetry without ever attempting to ape the 
methods of poetry. It stands, so to say, on poetic 
heights and breathes poetic air; but it has climbed to 
those loftier levels instead of soared. In the first place, 
De Quincey — in writings where this peculiar style is 
fully exercised — has a theme full of imagination and 
charged with emotion. His problem, therefore, was to 
convey in prose language what is essentially poetic ma- 
terial. The style through which this was accomplished 
is a marvelous display of all the resources of the rhetor- 
ician. It is not only great rhetoric, but it is great oratory 
as well ; for De Quincey knew how to pour forth his 
heart with all the fervor of a moving eloquence. It is 
almost poetically imaginative and ornate, and is impas- 
sioned at times almost to ecstasy. The discriminating 
critic will tell us of De Quincey's literary faults — his 
tedious digressions, his teasing eccentricities, his often 
strained humor, his incongruous mingling of solemn and 
grotesque, his whimsical extravagances, his lack of in- 
tellectual order and balance. But when all is justly said, 
we must still recognize a rare intellect, a magnificent im- 
agination, and an almost unmatched splendor of style. 

The literary wealth of the age is admirably illustrated 
by the authors already discussed, but it is by no Lesser Prose 
means exhausted. In all departments of liter- ^^^^°^^^^ 
ature there were other writers, eminent in their own day 
and by no means forgotten by posterity. A few of the 
best known of these may be briefly mentioned by way 
of example. In the field of literary criticism, wuiiam 
one of the most brilliant critical essayists and ^^^^^" 
most helpful allies of the romantic movement was Wil- 



326 INDIVIDUALISM (1780-1832) 

liam Hazlitt, best known by his lectures on Shakespeare, 
on the dramatic literature of the Elizabethan Period, on 
EngHsh poets, and on English comic writers. The name 
of Robert Southey was in his own day associated on equal 
terms with the names of Wordsworth and Coleridge in the 
Robert list of the Lake School of poets. His poetic 

Southey ^^^^ ^13,^ now declined, but no man represents 

better than he the romantic and individualistic spirit of 
his age. Perhaps his best and most typical poem is his 
romantic Curse of KeJiama. Although he was poet-laure- 
ate for thirty years, Southey was probably better as a 
prose-writer than as a poet. His Life of Nelson is a 
classic. Southey's position may be best defined as that 
of a typical man of letters. Thomas Campbell began 
Thomas with a pocm of the classical type on The Pleas- 

Campbeii ^^^^ ^ Hope, but soon caught the newer spirit 
of poetry. His best work is to be found in such poems as 
his three splendid war-songs — Hohenlinden, Ye Mariners 
of England, and the Battle of the Baltic. Campbell was a 
Scotchman, but the sentiment of his patriotic poetry is 
rather British than Scotch. Thomas Moore, however, 
Thomas was not Only a typical Irishman, but was also 
°°^® the singer of Ireland's woes and departed 

glories. His Irish Melodies do not reach the highest 
poetic levels, but it is praise enough to say that at their 
best they are almost perfect in their kind. Moore rep- 
resents the spirit of the age, not only by his patriotic 
enthusiasm, but also by his rather florid Oriental ro- 
mances, of which the best is Lalla Rookh. The life 
Walter sav- ^^ Walter Savagc Landor was an extremely 
ageLandor long onc, extending from 1775 to 1864; and 
his literary career affords some interesting illustrations 
of literary movements. He began as a romantic poet 
even before the close of the eighteenth century, and by 
later works illustrated the progress of the romantic 



THE AGE OF WORDSWORTH (1800-1832) 



327 



movement. His fine classical culture brought, however, 
a more finished and restrained quality into much of his 
poetry and also into the chaste and classic prose which 
marked his later life. His work, therefore, taken as 
a whole, unites romantic suggestiveness with classic ele- 
gance. While this union and change are in some re- 
spects personal to Landor, his tendency was nevertheless 
in harmony with the tendency of the age. change of 
When Romanticism had spent its greatest fer- *^®-^se 
vor, when Individualism had passed the period of its 
greatest intensity, there came something of a movement 
toward that restraint and recognition of literary law 
which Classicism had formerly represented. It was an 
old spirit recurring under the stress of very new impulses ; 
and Landor, living far on into the later age, had oppor- 
tunity to feel the effect of infl:uences which gave a classic 
finish to the work of Arnold and Tennyson. 




Graves of Keats and Severn, Old Protestant Cemetery 
Rome. Shelley's Grave is near, in New Cemetery 



BOOK VI 

DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE {183 2-1892) 

The Individualism which characterized the Age of Burns 
and the Age of Wordsworth was not Democracy. It was 
, ^. .^ ,. rather the spirit of which democracy is born. 

Individualism ^ -^ 

and Democ- Dcmocracy is organized government — " of the 
^^^^ people, by the people, and for the people." 

It is individuahstic theory and passion crystallized into 
actual fact. An age of individuaHsm must precede an 
age of democracy, and sometimes the period of prepa- 
ration is a very long one. The history of the development 
of free institutions in England has not, of course, been a 
history of sudden revolution, but rather a history 

Where Freedom slowly broadens down 
From precedent to precedent. 

It is therefore difficult to specify the exact points where 
movements for freedom have begun or have culminated. 
Nevertheless, we have been able to see in literature the 
development of the individualistic spirit progressing for 
something like a hundred years, gradually gathering force 
and gradually coming to ever clearer and stronger literary 
expression. At about the close of the first third of the 
nineteenth century, moreover, it may be fairly said that 
democracy in England has begun. It began earlier in 
America; but there it had freer way, and did not have 
to make that long and severe struggle against, established 
order and prescriptive right which we have seen to be the 
special characteristic of the ages of Burns and Words- 
worth. It was not until the battle for individualism had 

328 



1 





Ji 



priT^y 



i^cTTt 



DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832--1892) 329 

been fought and won on many fields that victory for de- 
mocracy was possible. If there is any one event that 
marks the actual beginning of democratic conditions in 
England, it is the great Reform Bill of 1832. From that 
as a point of departure, the movement went gradually for- 
ward throughout the rest of the century, until England 
became in literal fact a *' crowned repubhc." 

Not only must the spirit of individualism precede the 
growth of democracy ; it must also accompany and inform 
that growth. It is the very breath of life in the individualism 
nostrils of the democratic organism. Yet this in Democracy 
union of spirit and fact brings new conditions. In- 
dividualism is no longer a disembodied spirit, free to 
wander at its own sweet will, to turn and overturn at its 
own pleasure. It has accepted responsibihties and has put 
itself under bonds. It is now the master and guide of 
social conditions, and no longer the mere iconoclast. It 
can not indulge in revolution, for it must preserve and 
develop the new order which it has created. In a word, 
its work is no longer destructive but constructive. All this 
makes a vast difference. Men still believe in the worth of 
the common man. They still maintain the rights of the 
individual. They still proclaim the blessings of liberty. 
But now the ideal is liberty within the bounds of law. The 
individual is part of a great organization, and has his 
duties as well as his rights. The common man must make 
himself uncommon, if he is really to prove his worth 
where opportunity is open to all. 

Some such suggestions as these will serve to indicate 
roughly the new conditions that are created for literature 
by the passing^ of the democratic ideal into the ^ 

•' . . . . Democracy 

democratic reality. Literary genius must now andLitera- 
seek to represent the appearances and conditions ^ 
of life under a democratic social order. It must reflect the 
thoughts, the feelings, and the aspirations of average men 



330 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

and women. It must recognize a duty to uphold such 
ideals as will make the individual a better citizen and mem- 
ber of society. It must feel the influence of popular taste 
and judgment, and yield in greater or less measure to the 
sway of the popular will. Even poetry must become to 
some extent " popular," and must recognize the right of 
the people to find poetic expression for the spiritual and 
the ideal that is within common breasts. Literature is 
likely to return from the study of nature to the study of 
man. Romance will still exist, for the common people are 
always romantic ; but it will tend to be such romance as 
common people can understand. On the other hand, there 
will be encouragement to reaUsm, for men will desire to 
see the portrayal and to be told the meaning of ordinary 
life. To some sensitive souls, this democratization of litera- 
ture will seem a lamentable and a vulgar thing ; but democ- 
racy will be likely to have faith in itself and in the way 
along which it is impelled by its own genius. Nor will those 
who know the history of English literature find that faith 
unjustified by the past. They will recall that there have 
been fears before lest literary genius should be degraded 
by stooping to common themes — lest King Cophetua 
should lower his dignity by stepping down to wed the 
beggar maid. Then they will remember — and the remem- 
brance will be sufficient — that Robert Burns taught 
William Wordsworth 

How Verse may build a princely throne 
On humble truth. 

It is not too much even to beheve that the literature of 
democracy may eventually become the greatest of all liter- 
ature, because more than any other it is the literature of 
humanity. 

The conditions of democracy, whose natural influence- 
upon literature we have thus tried briefly to indicate, 



DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 331 

prevailed throughout the period whose literary history we 
are now to consider. If those conditions did _ 

Democratic 

not produce in the fullest measure the effects influences on 
suggested, the reasons are to be sought in two 
directions. In the first place, the conditions themselves 
were not complete. England was becoming a democracy ; 
but the growth was slow, and its perfect results were in 
some degree hindered by the coexistence of aristocratic 
and monarchical institutions. Democracy in America was 
more thoroughgoing, and its effects on literature have been 
consequently more typical. In the second place, the in- 
fluence of democracy has been to a large extent modified 
by the simultaneous action of another great and powerful 
force — that of modern science. Nevertheless, in spite 
of all necessary limitations, the literary influence of demo- 
cratic ideas and of democratic conditions of Hfe may be dis- 
cerned with sufficient clearness and fulness to justify the 
recognition of democracy as one of the great guiding im- 
pulses of the literature of the age. The wonderful growth 
of the novel in its manifold forms offers large illustration of 
the presentation of life and character as. they exist in a demo- 
cratic state of society. Miscellaneous prose has dealt largely 
with the themes and problems suggested by a democratic 
age, and not the less so when the writers have been hostile 
or critical in their attitude toward democratic theories and 
aspirations. Even in the case of poetry, the ideals of the 
average man and the sentiments of a democratic society 
have had their influence and have found their expression. 

Another controlling influence in the age, as we have 
already intimated, has been that of Science. The growth 
of natural science has been one of the 2:reat 

r r 1 • 1 T 1 -. Growth of 

tacts of the nmeteenth century. It has exerted Natural 
a profound influence upon human thought in all 
its departments — religious, philosophical, political, social, 
-historical, educational, literary, as well as. purely scientific. 



332 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

It has had a far-reaching and almost incalculable effect 
likewise upon the conditions of practical life. Within two 
generations, the world has been almost revolutionized in 
the matters of commerce, trade, travel, intercommunica- 
tion, and every-day living. The facts in the case are too 
clear and too familiar to be in need of specific illustration. 
Under such conditions, it could hardly be otherwise than 
that science should have had a profound influence upon 
literature. 

This influence has been partly direct and partly indirect, 
partly negative and partly positive. Science has in- 
fluenced literature directly by suggesting new 
enceof literary themes, by opening up new realms to 

the imagination, by increasing the range of im- 
agery and illustration, by giving new conceptions of the 
universe and of man, by emphasizing the reign of all- 
embracing and unalterable law, by teaching new methods 
of analysis and research, by laying stress upon the idea 
of organic growth, by stimulating anew man's deep-seated 
passion for truth and reality. Its most immediate in- 
fluence has been upon such writings as those of Darwin 
and Huxley and Tyndall and Spencer — writings scientific 
in subject and purpose, yet possessed of no small degree 
of literary quality. Scarcely less immediate has been its 
influence upon realistic fiction. The close and accurate 
study of real life, the analysis of character and motive, 
the insistence upon the inexorable laws of human being, the 
conception of evolutionary growth, are but some of the 
ways in which the novelists have manifested the scientific 
spirit. Much of this will be found in Thackeray, still 
more in George Eliot. How far these and like influences 
are manifested in other great writers, we shall have later 
occasion to ask. 

The indirect influence of science upon literature has 
been quite as powerful and important. Science, as we 



1 



DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 333 

have implied, has affected all classes, from the highest to 
the lowest. The improvement in the conditions 

Indirect 

of living, the increase of prosperity, the advance influence of 
in material civihzation, the mastery over the 
resources of nature, the growth of industrialism and com- 
mercialism, the freedom of intercourse among civilized 
nations, the revelation as to natural law, the impetus 
to philosophical thinking, the transformation of method in 
nearly all departments of research, the disturbance of relig- 
ious faith and opinion, the change of attitude toward all 
the great problems of existence — all these have affected 
literature no less profoundly because their influence was 
indirect. Literature, as we have already pointed out, 
never expresses the life of an age completely. Least of 
all could it do so in an age like this, so many of whose 
ideas and ideals were anything but literary Neverthe- 
less, literature has been one product of the life in which 
these forces were moving, and it therefore manifests at 
least indirectly the influence of the scientific impulse. In 
no single direction has this indirect influence of science 
been more strongly felt than in the direction of its effect 
on rehgious thought. Carlyle, for instance, feels the 
scientific impulse more than he knows, but is chiefly 
moved by it in an indirect way to the insistence upon the 
reality of spirit behind the material garment. On the 
great poets, also, the scientific influence has been chiefly 
indirect and mainly through the same religious channel. 
They have for the most part accepted the conclusions of 
science with loyal devotion to truth ; but they have not 
found in science much direct poetic inspiration. Science 
has affected them rather by affecting their attitude toward 
great spiritual questions — questions of religion and of 
Hfe. No poem of the age is more typical than Tennyson's 
In Memoriam. It reveals the struggle of a great soul with 
the doubts and fears which science has induced, the 



334 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

vindication of " the larger hope " against an aggressive 
materialism. The struggle of Arnold is more futile ; his 
mood is sadder. A sorrowful resignation breathes through 
Dover Beach, a sad assurance of powers that make for 
righteousness through such poems as Palladium and 
Rugby Chapel. Morris seems to himself but "the idle 
singer of an empty day." Swinburne finds consolation 
only in the fact 

That no life lives forever ; 
That dead men rise up never ; 
That even the weariest river 
Winds somewhere safe to sea. 

To him the end of all things is 

Only the sleep eternal 
In an eternal night. 

Only one voice of assured faith and optimism has rung 
clear like a trumpet across all this tumult. Robert Brown- 
ing — looking science fearlessly in the face, accepting with- 
out a murmur or a protest all that she has proved, hiding 
his head in the sands of no blindly orthodox creed — is yet 
confidently certain that 

God's in his heaven — 
Airs right with the world! 

The influence of science on literature has been both 
positive and negative. On the positive side, many men 
T. ... ^ have accepted its conclusions, have availed them- 

Positive and ^ ^ 

Negative sclvcs of its stimulus and its resources, have 
frankly made the best of its influence on religious 
faith, on spiritual conceptions, and on all the other great 
problems of life and thought. Others have been thrown 
into an attitude of opposition and revolt, and have either 
challenged the new movement in hopeless conflict or have 
sought relief from its oppressive weight in sad resignation 
or in the old escape from the trouble of the world into the 



DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 335 

serene realm of the romantic imagination. To some such 
and to many men of science, it has seemed that science is 
necessarily hostile to poetry. Probably in one sense it is ; 
for by extending the field of definite knowledge, it tends to 
limit the realm of mystery which is the true domain of the 
poet. Yet thus far, science has suggested more mysteries 
than it has solved. When science has done its perfect 
work, poetry may be swallowed up in knowledge, as faith 
will be lost in sight. When knowledge is so complete that 
there is no more room for the exercise of imagination, then 
it will be time to say that science has been fatal to poetry. 
For the present, we may think of scientist and poet as com- 
plementary to each other, and may content ourselves with 
the saying of Wordsworth that " poetry is the im- 
passioned expression which is in the countenance of all 
science." 

Such brief allusion is, of course, utterly inadequate to do 
anything more than barely suggest the influence of de- 
mocracy and science upon literature during the Victorian 
Period. Our further discussion must show the application 
of these general statements to particular cases. In the 
meantime, two things at least are clear. One is that 
science has not in our time proved destructive of literature. 
The other is that the earlier materialistic tendencies of 
science have not silenced in our poets that instinctive belief 
in spiritual verities which even science itself is coming more 
and more to justify. As we turn to a considera- 
tion of the Hterary work of the age, nothing is Lherlhirein 
more striking than its wonderful variety and com- *^® ^^^• 
plexity. The two great forces of Democracy and Science, 
working sometimes in harmony and sometimes in conflict, 
operating directly and indirectly in all departments of lit- 
erature, have created a literary situation more than usually 
confusing. It is impracticable to divide the age chrono- 
logically, for the work of many of its greatest men runs 



336 



DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 



clear through the whole period. The best solution of the 
difficulty seems to be a division of the literature into mis- 
cellaneous prose, the novel, and poetry, and a consideration 
of each of these branches of literary work in a separate 
chapter. 




Macaulay's House in London 



CHAPTER XV 

THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (i 832-1 892) 

Thomas Babington Macaulay was one of those rare men 
who, in the phrase of De Quincey, drew in the lottery of 
Hfe the double prize of a fine intellect and a j^^.^ 
healthy stomach. He was, on the one side, a fine ^acauiay 
animal, and on the other, a man of brilliant political and 
literary genius. The note of his character was the note of 
buoyant and cheerful optimism. The world in which he 
lived seemed to him a good world, and he had a confident 
faith in human progress and in the ultimate triumph of 
right principles. There was in him nothing of the temper 
of the revolutionist ; yet he saw with clear vision some of 
the more striking evils of his day and set about righting 
them. He had still less of the temper of the visionary and 
the idealist. He dreamed no divine dreams which were 
impossible of realization in a practical world. He voiced 
no passionate cry of human longing or aspiration. A 
temper like Shelley's, for instance, could probably have 
awakened in him neither sympathy nor understanding. 
His nature was eminently practical. What he saw was the 
plain fact of life in the clear light of every day. What he 
sought was such betterment in the conditions of life as 
were within the scope of reason and possibility. Such a 
man seemed born to grapple with the actual realities of the 
world rather than to lead men in the path of infinite 
spiritual development. The world needs all sorts of 
leaders, and could no more do without its Macaulays than 
without its Shelleys. Indeed, the former are the more 
absolute necessity. Man must live, in order to aspire. 

337 



338 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

He must first live by bread, in order that he may come to 
know that he *' shall not live by bread alone." Macaulay 
spoke to the great masses of men. He spoke to move 
them to practical action or to definite comprehension. He 
accomplished his task ; and we may well be thankful for 
what he did and look to other men for the great spiritual 
message. It would seem as though just such men as he 
were necessary in a democratic state of society, and per- 
haps the natural product of democratic conditions. Ma- 
caulay, at any rate, served well his day and generation. He 
had grown up in an age when individualism was growing 
in the minds and hearts of men, he came into public life 
at the time when conditions were ripe for practical demo- 
cratic action, and he took his effective part with other great 
leaders of the age in bringing about the beginnings of 
democratic development. In order to see this practical 
relation of the man to his age, it will be desirable to glance 
briefly at some of the most salient points of his life 
before turning to the consideration of his literary work. 
Macaulay's father was a prominent member of the 
Society for the Abolition of Slavery, and edited an 
Macauiay's aboHtionist newspaper. We may fancy from 
^^^ this fact the sort of pohtical school in which 

Macaulay grew up. His university training was received 
at Trinity College, Cambridge. He became a fine classical 
and historical scholar, obtained a considerable reputation 
as an orator and debater, and twice woti the Chan- 
cellor's medal for English verse. His earlier literary 
work gave evidence of a deliberate purpose to broaden his 
mind, to increase his knowledge, and to train himself 
as a writer. At twenty-five, he made his first important 
bid for literary fame by his Essay on Milton^ a most 
brilliant piece of work. His literary efforts soon brought 
him into notice ; and five years later, at the age of thirty, 
he was in the House of Commons. In the debates leading 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 339 

up to the passage of the great Reform Bill in 1832, he 
was one of the most prominent speakers and leaders, and 
the success of that most important measure for the ex- 
tension of the elective franchise was due in no small 
degree to his efforts. In the Reformed Parliament, he 
continued to be a most active and useful member. In 
1834 he was made president of a new law commission 
for India, and a member of the Supreme Council of 
Calcutta. In connection with these important duties, he 
spent two years and a half in India, returning to Eng- 
land in 1838. During all this time, he had continued 
his literary labors, and now desired to devote himself 
exclusively to literature. He was, however, again elected 
to Parliament in 1839. During the next few years, 
he held such important oi^ces as Secretary for War, 
Paymaster-General, and member of the Cabinet. He 
was a strong partisan, and was consequently often on 
the wrong side of important questions. In other cases, 
however, he was the vigorous champion of liberty and 
of progress. On the whole, his political career was of 
decided benefit to his country and mankind. The chief 
opposition and criticism which he aroused was because 
of his liberal and advanced views. His literary work 
had at no time ceased, and in 1849 he pubUshed the 
first two volumes of his History of England. Later 
volumes were pubHshed in 1855. No work since the 
Waverley Novels had created such general enthusiasm 
or been bought with such eagerness. The close of his 
life was rich in public honors. He was successively 
made Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow, Fellow 
of the Royal Society, Foreign Member of the French 
Academy, High Steward of Cambridge, and Baron Ma- 
caulay of Rothley. He died in 1859, ii^ his sixtieth year. 
It was a short life for a man of such robust constitution 
and regular habits. The fact is that Macaulay had spent 



340 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

too lavishly his splendid vitality and energy, both in the 
service of the commonweal and in the more enduring 
service of literature. 

Macaulay's literary genius was preeminently that of a 
great essayist. In his chosen field and in his chosen 
Macaulay's manner, he has probably had no equal. What 
Essays ^y^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^j^jg manner were, we must briefly 

illustrate. Macaulay's first notable work, the Essay on 
Milton, is typical of his excursions in the field of English 
Hterature. Among others of less note there are essays on 
Bacon, Dry den, Bunyan, Sir William Temple, Addison, 
Johnson, Goldsmith, and Byro7i. Macaulay also invaded the 
field of foreign literature, both ancient and modern, writing 
on such themes as The Athenian Orators, Dante, Petrarch, 
and Machiavelli. He was not a great literary critic ; and 
his limitations were particularly apparent where an ade- 
quate appreciation of his subject called for spiritual 
insight or for delicate feeling. He was strong, however, 
in the very useful critical virtue of common sense. It is 
rather in the field of historical biography than in the field 
of literary criticism that Macaulay is most distinguished. 
In English history, he began with Hampden, and treated 
such great characters as William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, 
and the younger William Pitt. His residence in India 
had given him a special acquaintance with Indian 
affairs, and led to such famous works as the Essay on 
Warren Hastings and the Essay on Lord Clive. His in- 
terest in general European history is well represented by 
his essays on Mirabeau and Frederick the Great. It will 
readily appear that his favorite subject of treatment was 
biography, and especially biography associated with his- 
tory. In dealing with such themes, he displayed a style 
clear, concrete, and brilliant to the last degree. He 
lacked subtlety, suggestiveness, spirituaHty, pathos ; but 
he could make his readers understand, and he could stimu- 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 341 

late their attention and secure their unwearied interest 
by his swift, breezy, and energetic manner. Few passages 
display his vigor, his self-confidence, his lucid and tren- 
chant expression, better than the conclusion of his essay on 
Barere : 

Something more we had to say about him. But let him go. We did 
not seek him out and will not keep him longer. If those who call them- 
selves his friends had not forced him on our notice we should never 
have vouchsafed to him more than a passing word of scorn and abhor- 
rence. . . . We have no pleasure in seeing human nature thus de- 
graded. We turn with disgust from the filthy and spiteful Yahoos of 
the fiction ; and the filthiest and most spiteful Yahoo of the fiction was 
a noble creature when compared with the Barere of history. But what 
is no pleasure M. Hippolyte Carnot has made a duty. It is no light 
thing that a man in high and honourable public trust . . . should come 
forward to demand approbation for a life black with every sort of wicked- 
ness, and unredeemed by a single virtue. This M. Hippolyte Carnot 
has done. By attempting to enshrine this Jacobin carrion, he has 
forced us to gibbet it ; and we venture to say that, from the eminence 
of infamy on which we have placed it, he will not easily take it down. 

Macaulay's History of England v^ characterized by most 
of the qualities that mark his Essays. He believed that his- 
tory should combine careful research, accurate History of 
statement of facts, and a vivid and concrete pres- England 
entation — that it should unite the descriptive and narrative 
interest of a novel with the true historical record. Putting 
this theory into briUiant practice, he wrote history as it had 
never been written before. He says, ''The perfect his- 
torian is he in whose work the character and spirit of an 
age is exhibited in miniature." It was this that he aimed 
at and in large measure attained. As mere history, it is 
open to the charge of partisanship, of superficiality, of lack 
of proportion, and of sacrificing historical truth to dramatic 
effect. As a piece of brilliant imaginative writing, it com- 
mands almost unqualified praise. The characters of history 
live, the events of history are realized by the imagination, 
the past becomes vital with human meaning. 



342 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

The essential characteristics of Macaulay's literary gen- 
ius have been already implied. He was a man of mar- 
Macauiay's velous industry, sparing no labor in acquiring 
Genius knowledge, in expressing his thought, or in 

serving the public welfare. He was a man of most re- 
markable memory. The story that he could repeat the 
whole of Paradise Lost is only one of many wonders re- 
lated of him. He was a man of clear vision, of vivid 
imagination, and of remarkable powers of expression. 
He was even, in his own way, a poet — not merely in 
the imaginative power of his graphic descriptions, but in 
the actual writing of verse. Such poems as 
Horatius, from his Lays of Ancient Rome, and 
the Battle of Ivry and the Battle of Naseby, from his 
Miscellaneous Poems, do not rise to the higher poetical 
levels ; but they are nevertheless genuine poetry. Popular 
taste has certainly endorsed them, and popular taste will 
be justified by a fair and cathoHc criticism. 

In almost all possible respects, Thomas ^arlyle was in 
marked contrast with Macaulay. Indeed, it would be dif- 
Thomas ficult to find anywhere his parallel or his ana- 

Cariyie loguc. When wc recall that he was born in 

1795, it will not seem strange that he possessed much of 
that intensely individuahstic spirit which characterized the 
earlier generation. But even this was with a difference 
and in his own peculiar way. He was certainly himself a 
unique individuality — even to the extent of oddity, whim- 
sicality, perversity, and violent prejudice. He was, more- 
over, a believer in strongly individual personality. This 
does not mean that he was a believer in the common man. 
What Carlyle believed in was the uncommon man. Ty- 
rants, autocrats, aristocrats, men of rank and privilege, 
were his abhorrence. He set his faith on the strong indi- 
vidual soul, and believed that such a soul had not merely 
the right to be equal with other men, but the right to be 




^. CwsA- 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 343 

superior to other men. The business of government in 
the world, properly understood, was to find the able and 
righteous man and to put him in the place of power. The 
business of the great mass of men was to obey and to fol- 
low such heaven-sent leaders — not to rule themselves. 

This was individuaHsm in an extreme form ; but it cer- 
tainly was not the spirit of democracy. It was the rec- 
02;nition of srreat character, wherever found ; 

, . , , \ . Attitude 

but It was by no means the democratic assump- toward 
tion that all men are equal or that the voice of ®°^°"^<^y 
the people is the voice of God. Coming upon a deuxO- 
cratic age, Carlyle found himself in harmony with it so 
far as it insisted upon the recognition of individual worth, 
on freedom from tyranny and oppression, on equal oppor- 
tunity for all men according to their powers ; beyond this, 
his attitude was one of criticism and of protest. The world 
that seemed to Macaulay about the best of all possible 
worlds seemed to Carlyle about the worst. He wanted 
men to think of obedience and of duty rather than of free- 
dom and equality. The effect of democracy on him was 
therefore peculiar. Instead of carrying him along with it, 
it made him a great critic and censor of contemporary life. 
His influence was in one sense depressing and discourag- 
ing ; but in another, it was wholesome and uphfting. He 
helped to keep men from forgetting some things which 
they seemed likely to ignore. He taught them that free- 
dom and equahty are not all of life, but that love, work, 
and obedience have also their place. In a way, therefore, 
his genius felt the influence of the age, though in some 
respects he was driven to reaction rather than to advance 
or to sympathy. 

Carlyle's relation to science was somewhat similar. He 
was in sympathy with the scientific doctrine of law as 
against the democratic doctrine of liberty. No man was 
more eager than he to preach the necessity of recogniz- 



344 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

ing and obeying law. He was in sympathy with science, 
likewise, in its inflexible devotion to truth and reality. 
, ^, , No man was a more intense lover of truth ; 

Attitude _ ' 

toward no man a more scornful hater of all falsity and 

Scicncs -^— 

sham and pretense and unreality. The one 
feature of the scientific movement that most aroused Car- 
lyle's antagonism was its tendency toward materialism. 
There is no doubt that Carlyle — like many other men of 
the age — was profoundly disturbed in his religious beliefs. 
How far this was the direct result of science may be ques- 
tioned ; but it was the result of the general unrest and 
unfaith which science tended to induce. In spite, how- 
ever, of all religious disturbance in his soul, Carlyle clung 
to the profound conviction that this is essentially a world 
of spirit — that materiaHsm would make it a "dog-ken- 
nel" of a world, instead of an antechamber to heaven. 
FeeHng that the tendency of science was materialistic, his 
conscious attitude toward it was one of hostility. He was 
affected by it more than he knew, he was in sympathy 
with it at its best more than he reahzed ; but he felt called 
upon to oppose many of its pretensions and to preach the 
doctrine of the spirituality of existence. Here again he 
became a critic and a censor of the age. He became also 
a great prophet — crying, as it seemed to him, in a spir- 
itual wilderness. Carlyle was a great literary genius, a 
strong, original, philosophical thinker; but more than all 
else, he was a great preacher — a preacher of duty and 
labor and obedience, a preacher of spiritual faith and 
practical righteousness. He was of his age, and felt the 
great impulses that were moving its life and thought, even 
though his character and convictions led him to cry out 
against it with all the strength of his prophetic soul and 
of his splendid genius. 

There is comparatively little in Carlyle's life that calls 
for particular mention. He was born at Ecclefechan in 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON —PROSE (1832-1892) 345 

the Scotch Lowlands, of a sturdy and God-fearing peasant 
stock. Educated at the grammar-school of Annan and 
afterward at the University of Edinburgh, he 

1 . • 1 -. iM Carlyle's Life 

was at first destmed for the mmistry, but delib- 
erately forsook that calling for the walks of literature. 
Against terrible odds of poverty, loneliness, dyspepsia, 
hostile criticism, and religious doubt, he fought his hard 
battle. For six years, after his marriage with Jane Welsh, 
he lived and toiled at the lonely farmhouse of Craigenput- 
toch, slowly building up his literary fame. His studies 
in German literature and philosophy were coloring his 
thought and affording material for his pen. He was put- 
ting his deep life experience into Sartor Resarhis. In 
1834 he removed to London, where he spent the remain- 
der of his long life. Here his fame steadily grew as he 
poured forth his powerful and voluminous body of literary 
work. For a generation he was a venerated teacher and 
an accepted prophet of his time. In 1866 he was made Lord 
Rector of the University of Edinburgh ; but this mark of 
his triumph was embittered by the death of his wife. He 
died in 1881, full of years and honors, and was buried 
among his own kindred in his native village of Ecclefechan. 
Carlyle began his literary work as early as 1823, and 
continued it until his death. His first publication was a 
translation of Goethe's Wilhelm Meister. His Early Liter- 
next was a Life of Schiller^ and this was soon ^^yWo^^^ 
followed by numerous translations from the German. 
These works are especially important as indicating the in- 
fluence exerted upon his earlier development by German 
ideas and German literary tendencies. More than any 
other one man, Goethe was his ideal and his master. 
Carlyle was a man of very different temper from the great 
German. The latter was a large, broad, serene nature, 
while the inspired Scotchman was narrow, bigoted, intense, 
but tremendously forceful. Nevertheless, there seems to 



346 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

have been something of natural affinity between the two, 
as there was also between Carlyle and the general temper 
of the German mind. This illustrates in its way the grow- 
ing cosmopolitanism of literature which finds so many il- 
lustrations during the nineteenth century. Carlyle's own 
later work has many reminders of this modern condition of 
affairs. Especially does his first great masterpiece, Sartor 
Resartus, show the influence of German ideas. Carlyle's 
work is exceedingly voluminous, and can not here be consid- 
ered in detail. There are, however, certain representative 
works which serve to display his characteristic genius and 
his typical modes of thought, and these may receive brief 
individual notice as specimens of the whole. 

Sartor Re sarins \?> one of the most astonishing and unique 
books of the century. The title means "the tailor retail- 
sartor orcd," and suggests symbolically Carlyle's main 

Resartus idea. The book humorously pretends to be the 
confused and fragmentary collection of the outpourings of 
a half -crazy German philosopher named Diogenes Teufels- 
drockh, of Weissnichtwo. It is a so-called "philosophy of 
clothes," and mingles Carlyle's theory of the universe and of 
man with a good deal of autobiographical matter setting 
forth his spiritual experiences. The work is grotesque, both 
in conception and in style. It is terrible, in its revelation 
of Carlyle's spiritual struggles. It is profound, in its deep 
and far-reaching philosophy. It is tremendously power- 
ful, in its emotional intensity and in its imaginative vigor. 
The singular book is too confused, too complicated, too rich 
in suggestion, too profound in thought, to allow of brief ex- 
position. It must suffice, therefore, to indicate its main pur- 
pose. By " clothes" Carlyle meant the outward vesture and 
wrappings of the essential reality. The forms of nature, the 
human body, even man's thoughts, deeds, and expressions 
— all are "clothes." In the deepest interpretation, these 
are only the outward symbols of the spiritual facts which 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 347 

they enshrine. The universe, at the heart of it, is not ma- 
terial but spiritual. The book is the symbol of Carlyle's 
spiritual philosophy ; and it sets forth the bitter agony of 
his own struggle out of the depths into the light. 

Carlyle's next great work was The French Revolution. 
It is more like a great epic poem than like a sober history. 
Carlyle believed with Macaulay that history r^^^ French 
should be made aHve to the imagination ; but Revolution 
how vastly different from Macaulay's are his methods and 
results. Of the gift of clear and orderly narrative, he dis- 
plays little ; but his power of vivid and picturesque descrip- 
tion and his genius for the dramatic realization of historic 
characters have never been surpassed since Shakespeare. 
His faculty of pouring out his own passionate emotion into 
his descriptions, of making himself as it were an actor in 
his dramatic scenes, is quite his own. The blood-curdling 
horrors of the " Reign of Terror," the tremendous and almost 
superhuman actors in the great tragedy of the Revolution, 
find in him their master and their inspired delineator. He 
seemed, indeed, the man born for such a task. He could 
ride that whirlwind undismayed. He could select from all 
its weltering confusions the men and the events that were 
most dramatic, most significant, most symbolic, and could 
make them stand forth in all their living colors and in all 
their historic meaning. It is unlike any other book that 
has ever been written, it is unlike any book that ever will 
be written, on the same theme. Others may give us the 
facts of the history in more orderly array. Carlyle has 
given us a picture that moves and breathes with his own 
intense life. 

Heroes and Heiv- Worship is one of Carlyle's most char- 
acteristic productions. It sets forth his distinctive 
theory that "universal history, the history of andHero- 
what man has accompHshed in this world, is at ^°"^p 
bottom the history of the great men who have worked here." 



348 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

Such men are the world's "real kings," the men who have the 
right to rule, and whom other men have the duty to obey 
and to follow. The work is in form a series of six lectures 
on " the heroic in history." The titles of the several lec- 
tures will convey the best idea of their scope: "The Hero 
as Divinity. — Odin. — Paganism : Scandinavian Mythol- 
ogy " ; "The Hero as Prophet. — Mahomet : Islam " ; " The 
Hero as Poet. — Dante: Shakespeare"; "The Hero as 
Priest. — Luther; Reformation: Knox; Puritanism"; "The 
Hero as Man of Letters. — Johnson, Rousseau, Burns"; 
"The Hero as King. — Cromwell, Napoleon : Modern Rev- 
olutionism." Nothing save the actual reading of them can 
convey an idea of their singular character and of their 
marvelous style. They embody much of Carlyle's charac- 
teristic attitude toward modern democracy. They show 
that he found his historic ideal, not in the people, but in 
the world's men of supreme genius and character. Hero- 
worship seemed to him a lesson that democracy needed to 
learn. 

Carlyle's attitude toward great men is still further illus- 
trated by his series of biographies. We have already 
Biographical mentioned his Life of Schiller. There are vari- 
Wntings ^^^g essays that have more or less of a biographical 
character. Carlyle loved to seize on a striking or heroic 
figure and give it illustration on a larger or smaller scale. 
One of his favorite heroes was Oliver Cromwell ; and his 
Cromweir s Letteis and Speeches is one of his most sympa- 
thetic as well as scholarly pieces of work. As might 
be expected, Carlyle does not allow Cromwell to speak 
altogether for himself. The letters and speeches are 
given " with elucidations," and Carlyle " elucidates " in his 
own characteristic fashion. Sometimes he flings his own 
dramatic word into the very midst of one of Cromwell's 
speeches in a way that reminds us of his habit of making 
himself an actor in the scenes of his French Revolution. 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 349 

The Life of John Sterling is a more quiet and restrained 
but not less deeply sympathetic biography of his personal 
friend. More heroic in proportions is his History of 
Frederick the Great, a magnificent historical panorama in 
twenty-one books. The great builder of the Prussian 
kingdom and layer of foundations for the German Empire 
is portrayed in living colors against the background of the 
history of his age. Frederick — Carlyle recognizes — was 
no demigod, rather a very '' questionable hero " ; but he 
was after all " a reality," a genuine *' king." 

Carlyle's distaste for the democracy and the materiahsm 
of his day led him to glorify the past as an age of obedi- 
ence and of faith. In Past and Present, he has Past and 
drawn a strikingly effective contrast. Book II ^^^^^^^ 
of this work, entitled "The Ancient Monk," gives a pic- 
ture of life in the Middle Ages which has never been 
surpassed for imaginative vividness and which has also 
the merit of historical fidelity. Book III, entitled "The 
Modern Worker," expresses his vigorous disapproval of 
modern conditions and methods. Two of his chapters 
are entitled "Gospel of Mammonism " and " Democracy." 
These titles indicate some of the targets at which his 
shafts were aimed. Carlyle's own " Gospel," whose main 
features have already been suggested in one way or an- 
other, is largely contained in this book ; but it is still 
further emphasized and expanded in works like Chartism, 
Latter-Day Pamphlets, The Nisrs'er Question, and 

AT- ^ Ar ^1 n r Later Wofks 

Ci hooting Niagara : and After. The first of 
these deals, in an exceedingly undemocratic spirit, with 
the labor question. The second discusses various modern 
topics. The third is a sarcastic fling at the sentimentalism 
of the abolitionists. The last suggests that the demo- 
cratic, industrial, materialistic age is approaching the 
brink of a tremendous cataract, and Carlyle's prophetic 
spirit forebodes only disaster and ruin. 



350 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

It will have already become apparent that behind Car- 
lyle's literary genius there was the potent strength of a 
cariyie's great character, an original personality, and a 
Genius profound life experience. That genius itself is 

not easy to analyze or to describe, and brief suggestion 
must suffice. It is probable that the greatest force in his 
literary work is its vehement, deep, and lofty pas- 
sion. Cariyie's heart was like a volcano, making lurid 
the heavens with its flames and carrying devastation in 
the path of its consuming streams. Carlyle was also 
possessed of a great creative imagination. His power 
of vision was almost supernatural. He worked in the 
realm of fact ; but he possessed an immense capability of 
" realizing " fact in vivid shapes, and of clothing fact in 
ideal garments. His imaginative faculty is chiefly dis- 
playedein the dramatic portrayal of historical characters. 
He had the instinctive feeling for beauty which is an 
element of the poetic nature, but he had little regard for 
the claims of beauty as compared with the claims of truth. 
Truth was the ruling passion of his nature, and all his 
books impress one with their craving for reality. The 
style in which he expressed himself is strongly 

HisStyle -, , , 1 . ,• • r -. • 

marked by the idiosyncrasies of his own nature. 
It is passionate ; it is vivid ; it is grotesque ; it is pathetic ; 
it is rich with imagery ; it is weighty with meaning and with 
power. Carlyle cares little for the rules of rhetoric and 
has not a slavish regard even for those of grammar. He 
is loose, fragmentary, inter] ectional, bold to excess. He 
cares only to express his meaning and to make his desired 
impression. If he startles, astounds, sometimes disgusts, 
all this is a part of his purpose. He will keep his reader 
awake at all hazards, and he will make him feel as with 
the tingling of electric shocksl It is certainly one of the 
least "classical," one of the most individual, styles ever 
written. He may be accused, as De Quincey on far 



I 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 351 

different grounds accused Keats, of " trampling upon his 
mother-tongue as with the hoofs of a buffalo." Never- 
theless, his style is powerful, imaginative, rhythmic, 
massive — touched at times with poetic beauty or poetic 
splendor — sounding all the notes of emotion, from sub- 
limity to violent energy, from the broadest humor to the 
tenderest pathos. It is the fitting and adequate expression 
of a great soul. 

John Ruskin was a disciple of Carlyle, and had many 
of the peculiarities of his master with reference to his 
modes of thought and with reference to his atti- r j^ p j^ 
tude toward the age. Yet Ruskin was a man of 
far different genius, and in some respects of far different 
character. The moral effect of the work of the two men 
is not so very far apart ; the purely literary effect is de- 
cidedly different. Ruskin was almost, if not quite, as dog- 
matic as Carlyle, and hardly less self-willed. Moreover, 
he had the like combination of an erratic manner and 
mode of expression with a spiritual tone and purpose that 
was at bottom ever one and the same. Both men were 
" wandering barks," sailing to all appearance under the 
direction of a capricious master, but guided in all their 
wanderings by the clear sight of the polar star. It is per- 
haps not unworthy of note that, while Carlyle was a thor- 
ough and typical Scotchman, Ruskin was born of Scotch 
parentage. The combination in them of an arbitrary will 
with a strongly religious temperament seems peculiarly 
Scotch. 

Ruskin had comparatively little sympathy with democ- 
racy in the stricter sense of the term ; but he had a deep 
and ever growing sympathy with the poor and Ruskin and 
the oppressed, a sympathy with the essential ^^^^^^ 
spirit of democratic ideals especially on the sociological 
side. In order to be helpful to his fellow men, he wrote, 
he labored, he spent practically the whole of his large 



352 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

fortune. Ruskin had quite as little sympathy as Carlyle 
with the materialistic tendencies of science ; but with its 
larger spirit, he was in substantial harmony. He had the 
passionate love of truth which was even more than the 
intellectual ardor of the scientist. He had a love for na- 
ture which combined the spirit of the scientific investi- 
gator, the poet, and the artist. He had an eye for natural 
fact which no student of science could surpass. His tem- 
perament was perhaps more than anything else that of the 
artist. He was in his generation an apostle of beauty — 
beauty of form and color, but likewise the beauty of right- 
eousness, in thought, in feeling, and in living. He pos- 
sessed the practical gifts of the artist; but he chose to 
set them aside in order that he might call attention to the 
beauty in the works of other men. He possessed also the 
gifts of literary genius ; but these, too, he chose to sacrifice 
to his task as a preacher of the gospel of beauty. If he 
attained literary fame, it was because his genius could not 
be suppressed, because his preaching necessarily took on 
those great qualities of substance and form that made it 
literature. For all this Ruskin was rather scoffed at by 
many as being chimerical and quixotic. Nothing could 
better illustrate this attitude or his own nobility of spirit 
than a passage from his Fors Clavigera^ an autobiographic 
work written toward the latter part of his career : 

Because I have passed my life in almsgiving, not in fortune-hunting ; 
because I have laboured always for the honour of others, not for my own, 
and have chosen rather to make men look at Turner and Luini, than to 
form or exhibit the skill of my own hands ; because I have lowered my 
rents, and assured the comfortable lives of my poor tenants, instead of 
taking from them all I could force for the roofs they needed ; because I 
love a wood walk better than a London street ; and would rather watch 
a sea gull fly than shoot it, and rather hear a thrush sing than eat it ; 
finally, because I never disobeyed my mother, because I have honoured 
all women with solemn worship, and have been kind even to the un- 
thankful and evil ; therefore, the hacks of English art and literature wag 
their heads at me. 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 353 

A large part of Ruskin's work, and especially of his 
earlier work, was in the form of art criticism. His first 
notable work was a book entitled Modern Paint- work as an 
ers^ which he afterward modified and expanded ^* ^"*^*^ 
through a series of years. It was not, as its title might 
suggest, a history of modern painting, but rather a glori- 
fication of Turner as the first and greatest of genuine 
landscape painters. The book, especially in its enlarged 
form, goes much further ; for Ruskin enters into elaborate 
discussion of art theories, of the characteristics of various 
schools, of the true and the false in art, and especially of 
the relation of art to nature. This interest in landscape 
and the recognition of its place in art associates itself with 
the naturalistic movement in poetry, already discussed. 
It associates itself, however, quite as much with modern 
scientific study of nature ; for Ruskin was concerned even 
more with natural truth than with natural beauty. Other 
art works of importance are his Seven Lamps of Architec- 
ture and his Stones of Venice. The former of these aptly 
illustrates the very important fact that Ruskin believed the 
inspiration of all true art to lie in the moral nature of the 
artist and of his age, and also the further and greater fact 
that all Ruskin's work — of whatever name or nature — is 
at bottom dealing with moral questions. The " Seven 
Lamps " are these : Sacrifice, Truth, Power, Beauty, Life, 
Memory, Obedience. They suggest much as to Ruskin's 
spirit and method. The Stones of Venice is a work of 
larger scope, but it is informed by the same general pur- 
pose. The effect of the three works taken together is to 
show Ruskin's conception that the natural world is the 
expression of the divine mind and filled therefore with 
spiritual suggestion, and that all human art must find its 
highest power in fidelity to nature and in humble obedi- 
ence to moral law. Such doctrine as this, Ruskin preached 
to his generation ; and he preached it with a prophetic 



354 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

fervor, not merely because he wished to see modern life 
made more beautiful, but because he believed that beauty 
is at bottom a matter of righteousness. 

This same zeal of the prophet inspired also his later 
writings. About i860, when Ruskin was just past forty 
Social years of age, he practically brought to an end 

Questions j^jg career as an art critic by the completion of 
his Modern Painters. He had labored nearly twenty years 
in the service of art, and was still to be her enthusiast ; 
but from this time forward, he was to give himself more 
especially to a higher and a nobler service. For nearly forty 
years more his life was to continue, closing only with the 
last year but one of the century ; and during this period, his 
literary work was to be that of a great ethical teacher and 
social reformer. He dealt with all sorts of subjects, there 
was in his writings an ever recurring allusion to art and to 
beauty ; but still more, there was the prevalent tone of a 
deep moral earnestness, the voice of a man whose supreme 
desire was to better the condition of his fellows and to 
teach them that righteousness is the great law of life. It 
is no more within our present scope to consider his various 
efforts outside of the literary field for the betterment of 
humanity than to consider the specific value of his work 
as a technical critic of art. These matters are, of course, 
important to an understanding of the man and of his total 
achievement ; but our present purpose is more exclusively 
literary, and, moreover, his work in literature was in 
essentially the same spirit as his work in other fields. 

Most of the works of this later period bear fanciful 
titles which only remotely suggest or symbolize their real 
Later subjcct-mattcr. Unto this Last and Miinera 

Writings Pjilveris are two books written against the 
narrowness and utilitarianism of the current politiciil 
economy. Ruskin would have men consider that ther^ are 
higher values than those which mere commerciaHsm takes 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 355 

into account. The Crown of Wild Olives consists of three 
lectures on ''Work, Traffic, and War." Ethics of the Dust 
is a series of ten lectures "to Little Housewives on the 
Elements of Crystallisation." Fors Clavigera is a series of 
letters "to the workmen and labourers of Great Britain," 
and contains much autobiographical matter. Prceterita is 
also autobiographical. Probably his best-known work is 
Sesame and Lilies. It is brief, and contains some of 
the best illustrations of his style. One of the divisions, 
" Kings' Treasuries," contrasts worldly and spiritual wealth, 
and treats especially of the spiritual value of books. An- 
other division, " Queens' Gardens," deals with the place, 
power, and education of women. 

Ruskin was a man who possessed a fine imagination and 
an almost poetic appreciation of beauty. These were per- 
haps the basis of his purely literary genius, al- His Genius 
though, of course, his noble character and his and style 
high ethical spirit largely determined the quality of his 
literary work. It is with his style, however, that the lit- 
erary student must be chiefly impressed. This is highly 
ornate and musical, reminding us somewhat of De 
Quincey's imaginative and impassioned prose. It has re- 
minders, too, of the early seventeenth-century prose- 
writers ; but more than to any other scource, it owes its 
distinguishing qualities to the EngHsh Bible. He had been 
deeply familiar with the Book from his earliest years, and 
its sublime strains had become a part of his intellectual in- 
heritance. Magnificent as it is, this style can not justly be 
charged with affectation or artificiality. He rises to his 
heights of inspired eloquence or impassioned description 
only under the stress of his own genuine emotion and kin- 
dling imagination ; and the style is the natural and almost 
inevitable expression of the man. 

As we come to the consideration of Matthew Arnold, we 
are struck by the fact that, of the four great prose-writers 



356 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

who best represent the present period, only one was in 
full harmony with its spirit. Macaulay was a typical man 
Matthew ^^ ^^^ time, accepting its ideals and voicing its 
Arnold characteristic ideas. Carlyle and Ruskin, as 

we have just seen, were in many respects in an attitude of 
antagonism to the spirit of the age, and felt called upon to 
be its censors and critics, although they too were, of course, 
unconsciously affected by its power. Matthew Arnold 
was also a censor, a critic, and in some sense a prophet, of 
his time. Carlyle preached the doctrine of duty and work 
and obedience. Ruskin preached the gospel of beauty, 
in form and in spirit. Arnold was preeminently the apostle 
of culture. " Sweetness and light " was the phrase that 
he borrowed from Swift and made practically his own. By 
it he referred to gentility of manners and to intellectual 
refinement. His conception of culture is acquaintance 
with '' the best that has been known and thought in the 
world." As compared with the " Hebraism " of Carlyle 
and to some extent of Ruskin, Arnold's ideal was found 
rather in " Hellenism." It was the ideal of ideas as com- 
pared with the ideal of conduct and duty. Arnold believed 
in the potency of ideas, and sought to aid their triumph 
over the narrow-minded, complacent, insular, and puritan- 
ical spirit of *' Philistinism." With democracy, he had 
comparatively little to do, one way or the other. His own 
personal temper was that of an intellectual aristocrat. 
With science, he had to do in two ways. Directly, it helps 
to account for the keen, analytical, observant temper of 
his mind. Indirectly, it unsettled his religious faith. 
With the sadness, the melancholy, and the resignation 
which this induced, we shall have to do in a later consid- 
eration of his poetry. In prose, his attitude was intellec- 
tual and logical. It was that of the stoic, who will put 
away all outworn illusions, will face the situation as it is, 
will " see life steadily and see it whole," and will take ref- 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — PROSE (1832-1892) 357 

uge in ideas. It was that of the cultured man of the world 
— urbane, polished, intellectual, and withal " a friend and 
helper of those who would live in the spirit." 

Arnold's most important work in prose was that of a 
literary critic. Here he was classical, comparative, sane, 
impartial, and acute. He brought literature to the test of 
the highest ideals, and applied those ideals with rare judg- 
ment and insight, if with something more than a tinge of 
dogmatism. From 1857 to 1867, he was Pro- Arnold's 
f essor of Poetry at Oxford, and his lectures in ^^°^® ^°^^ 
that position exerted a wide influence upon current criti- 
cism and ideas of literature. The most important fruits of 
this work were two famous productions, Ou Translating 
Homer and On the Study of Celtic Literature. In 1865 he 
published Essays in Criticism, and twenty-three years 
later, in the year of his death, added to this a second series 
under the same title. Other volumes largely of a literary 
character were his Mixed Essays ( 1 879), Irish Essays ( 1 882), 
and Discourses in America (1885). In these various books, 
his criticism took a wide range and displayed a taste cath- 
olic as well as just. He dealt with Greek, French, German, 
as well as British, authors, and brought to bear a compara- 
tive criticism that was both suggestive and stimulating. 
His ideals were classical rather than romantic, his method 
was perhaps rather judicial than sympathetic ; but every- 
where there is the evidence of a cultivated intelligence and 
of keen critical insight. Arnold's true province as a prose- 
writer was that of literary criticism ; but he did not always 
confine himself to that field. His Schools and Universities 
on the Continent shows his interest in education ; and as an 
expert in educational matters, he had a right to speak with 
authority. His writings are permeated with thought on 
social and ethical questions, and it is in this sphere that 
he best displays his relation to the age. He even made 
an excursion into the field of theological controversy in 



358 



DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 



such works as Culture and Anarchy (1869), St. Panl and 
Protestantism (1870), Literature and Dogma (1873), and God 
and the Bible {i^y^). Here, perhaps, his venture was less 
fortunate ; but these works help to define for us Arnold's 
character and intellectual attitude, to make clearer the in- 
fluence upon him of the great movements of the age, and 
to emphasize his peculiar relation to his own time. 

Arnold's genius on the prose side was, as we have inti- 
mated, that of a great literary critic and apostle of culture. 
He was also one of the great poets of his age, and will call 
for prominent treatment in our later consideration of the 
Arnold's poctry of the time. It remains here to observe 
^*y^^ that he was also a great master of prose style. 

In this particular, he affords a remarkable contrast with 
both Ruskin and Carlyle. He had next to nothing of 
their vehemence, their richness, their music, or their imag- 
inative splendor. His qualities are those of the intellect 
rather than those of passion or imagination. His character- 
istic virtues are those of lucidity, serenity, simplicity, purity, 
suavity, terseness, precision. To all this he added the 
Attic salt of a spicy humor and of a delicate irony. He is 
great with the greatness of a calm and pure intelligence. 




The Birthplace of Carlyle 

Ecclefechan 




m ayi^^ifeyt/^ 



L 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE AGE OF TENNYSON — THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 

In our consideration of the history of the modern 
novel, we have seen that it began in reaHsm, under 
the classical influences of the eighteenth century. Later, 
under the influence of a growing romanticism, the novel 
also became romantic. Scott was the great The Modern 
romancer, and under his auspices the roman- ^^^^^ 
tic novel came to the place of first importance in the 
field of prose fiction. Nevertheless, such work as that 
of Jane Austen had more than preserved the realistic 
tradition ; and the Victorian Period found itself in pos- 
session of a broad and many-sided inheritance from the 
past development of the novel. On the whole, the 
history of the novel during this period is a history of 
change from romanticism back to realism, with certain 
marked tendencies toward romantic reaction. This seems 
altogether natural. The spirit of individualism that pre- 
vailed in the age of Scott tended mainly toward the 
freedom of romance, although, as we have seen, there 
was a side on which it tended toward the encourage- 
ment of realism. Individualism under the more con- 
crete form of democracy was likely to emphasize the 
realistic view of life by emphasizing the .place and im- 
portance of the ordinary man. This tendency toward 
realism was reenforced by the influence of science. 
Science had given men a new insight into psycholog- 
ical as well as into physical facts, it had taught methods 
of intellectual analysis that supplemented the imaginative 
insight of genius, it had brought new conceptions of man's 

359 



36o DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

relations to society and of his place in the universe. All 
this gave to real life a new and different interest, and nov- 
elists were encouraged to a fresh zeal in the study of its 
actual phenomena. The romantic fiction of the age was 
largely written in a spirit of protest or of escape. Its 
writers struggled against the coldness and bareness of 
the scientiiic aspect of things, or else they tried to escape 
from it into the world of dreams. Some, however, took 
a better view. They found new marvels in the revelations 
of science which they displayed as more romantic than Gul- 
liver or the " Gothic " romance of terror. This points to 
still another fact ; namely, that the boundaries between 
romance and realism were to some extent obscured. 
Each used in a measure the materials and the methods 
of the other, and thereby enlarged the boundaries of its 
own province. The amount of work produced in the 
various departments of the novel was immense. The 
necessary limitations of a brief discussion will therefore 
compel us to a more than usually rigid selection and ex- 
clusion. Three novelists of the age stand out from the 
crowd — Dickens, Thackeray, and George Eliot. They 
were undoubtedly the greatest in genius. They were also 
typical, in a sense that makes them illustrative of the 
principal facts and movements of their age. To these 
three, then, we may devote our attention with the assur- 
ance that they will be found largely representative of the 
history of fiction in their time. 

Charles Dickens was in many ways in harmony with 
the spirit of his generation, but with striking personal 
peculiarities. No author of the period save Robert 

Browning better illustrates the necessity of 
Dickens: taking into account the personal equation in 

literary work. At the basis of his genius lies 
his broad and intimate familiarity with men and things. 
He was by nature a shrewd and accurate observer of 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON— THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 361 

life ; and his own practical experiences had brought him 
to a close knowledge of its realities and even of its 
hardships. Born in Portsmouth in 18 12, he was early- 
removed to London with his family, and learned there 
to know the privations and sordid cares of humble life 
in the great city. At ten years of age, he was working 
in a blacking factory, while his father was confined for 
debt in the Marshalsea Prison. His literary apprentice- 
ship was served as a newspaper reporter and later as 
a magazine and newspaper editor. Experience as an 
amateur actor also contributed to the training which was 
to take the place of a university education in preparing 
him for his life work. Literary work began early and 
was almost immediately successful. Few writers have 
been so popular as Dickens or have lived to reap such 
abundant literary honors. His life was prematurely short- 
ened in 1870, by the excitement and the physical strain 
of his public readings before vast and enthusiastic audi- 
ences in England and America. 

Dickens had certain points of contact with the realistic 
school, although he is by no means to be called a reahst. 
His personal experiences gave him opportunity 
for wide and varied knowledge of English life. 
Within this field, he best knew the middle and lower 
classes, and nothing was more famiUar to him than the 
life of London streets and homes. One of the most in- 
teresting minor features of his novels lies in his particular 
acquaintance with certain favorite localities, in and out of 
London. Readers of Dickens will recall many illustra- 
tions of this from works like Our Mutital Friend^ Bleak 
House^ The Old Curiosity Shop, and David Copperfield. 
The last of these is in effect an idealization of actual 
experiences from his own life. His subjects are drawn al- 
most entirely from the life of the English common people. 
Even in a novel like A Tale of Two Cities ^ in- which he deals 



362 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

with events of the French Revolution, a very large propor- 
tion of the book is taken up with description of English 
life and especially the life of London. 

If Dickens is a realist in knowledge of actual life and in 

choice of subjects, he is anything but a realist in his 

methods of treatment. He handles his real 

His Methods . , , 

subject-matter with the greatest freedom. We 
can hardly call him a romantic novelist, for his field lies 
rather between the territories of realism and romance. 
For lack of a better term, he might be designated an ideal- 
ist in fiction. This means to imply that his novels, while 
keeping within the limits of ordinary life for their materi- 
als, are an extreme idealization of the actual and the 
famihar. He takes liberties with the literal facts of life in 
the portrayal of character and perhaps still more in the 
construction of plot. What he seeks is not primarily a 
faithful picture of life as it is. He displays that life 
rather in the light which his singular fancy has shed 
around it. Often he is concerned with the attack or de- 
fence of some moral principle, and portrays life in a way 
to suit his immediate purpose. Illustrations of this are to 
be found in such books as Dombey and Son, Little Dorrit, 
and Nicholas Nickleby. In all his works, we may see his 
marked disposition toward partisanship for or against his 
various characters. He applauds and rewards the good, 
he condemns and arbitrarily punishes the bad. In a word, 
there is lack of that artistic impartiality which character- 
izes a great master like Shakespeare. What we shall have 
occasion to see is that Dickens supplies this lack by other 
remarkable powers and that he is great in spite of all faults 
and limitations. 

We must probably seek the deepest secret of Dickens's 
HisEmo- genius in his emotional nature. He had intense 
tionai Power power of feeling, and his feeling was easily 
aroused. His emotions were not inspired primarily by Htera- 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 363 

ture, by the ideals of his art, or even by the strong impulse 
to personal expression. Their inspiration was rather in 
the human spectacle which he saw around him. He was 
profoundly interested in the joys and sorrows and manifold 
experiences of men and women, and he was profoundly 
moved by them. His deep and strong sympathies were 
always on the side of truth, morality, and religion. The 
two most characteristic emotions of his nature were pathos 
and humor. These seemingly opposite feelings have not 
seldom been found in harmony with each other in great 
men of genius ; and in Dickens, they met in a rare and 
happy union. 

On the one side, we feel the deep tenderness of his 
nature, and are witness of his power over the softer emo- 
tions of the human heart. His pathos permeates 
all his work. Every reader of Dickens will re- 
call such examples as the death of Little Nell, of Little Jo, 
and of Paul Dombey ; and these are only extreme illustra- 
tions of what is to be found in greater or less degree in 
all his novels. He has been charged with sentimentalism, 
with exaggeration, with " pumping for tears," and there is 
something of justice in the charge ; but nevertheless, his 
pathos is an element of undoubted power in his work and 
helps in large measure to account for its popularity. 

Over against his pathos is his humor — not delicate, 
subtle, and half melancholy, as we might expect, but 
rather of the broad and boisterous kind. Hearty 

11, 1 r 1 • • T 1 • His Humor 

laughter, playful irony, potent ridicule, a sin- 
gular love of the grotesque — these are some of the char- 
acteristics of Dickens's humor. We may declare without 
qualification that he is one of the world's great humorists. 
Whatever other limitations upon his art may be allowed, 
there surely can not be much room for cavil here. 

This is one of the secrets of his literary greatness, while 
at the same time it accounts for much that is strange, dis- 



364 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

torted, and exaggerated in his work as a novelist. The 
Effect on relation of Dickens to the art of novel-writing 
^^^^ is a somewhat peculiar one. He is a caricaturist 

of life and character rather than a painter of portraits. 
Yet let us recognize that the caricaturist has also a genu- 
ine and deep, as well as a keen, insight into life, and that 
he is in his way just as truly a revealer of its meanings. 
Dickens is not really to be understood by those who fail to 
comprehend his singular union of humor and pathos and 
the effect of this on his work. They judge him by the 
standards of other men and expect from him similar re- 
sults. He must be judged by his own standard, and his 
results must be appreciated as the outcome of his own 
very peculiar genius. 

Next to the emotional power of Dickens, we must note 
the power of his imagination. Great emotional power 
Hisimag- tcnds to quicken the imagination; and as we 
ination might cxpcct, the imaginative activity of Dick- 

ens is easily aroused. And when it is aroused,, how aston- 
ishing are its creations. We are struck by its variety and 
its fertility ; its resources seem inexhaustible and its pos- 
sible shapes almost infinite. We are impressed by its 
clearness and its minuteness ; there seems to be a perfect 
conception of objects even to their slightest details. There 
is comparatively little penetration into essential realities ; 
but there is a wonderful power of effective combination. 
Dickens is less a revealer of life's mystery than a portrayer 
of its visible fact. The remarkable peculiarities of his 
pictures are largely accounted for by the marvelous in- 
tensity and vividness of his imagination. He sees the 
ideal almost as vividly as the actual. Objects stand forth 
with a distinctness comparable to that of a landscape re- 
vealed in a sudden glare of lightning. Inanimate things 
even seem to be endowed with life and sensibility. This 
activity of his imagination is undoubtedly largely affected 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 365 

by his pathos and his humor. These help to account for 
its distortions, its exaggerations, its whimsicaHty, and its 
grotesqueness ; but apart from other influences, much is 
due to its own sportive and fantastic nature. 

Dickens's technical art as a noveHst is not quite equal 
to the real force of his genius. On the side of his style, 
he can not be called a great master. This may g^g Art as a 
in part be accounted for on general grounds. Novelist 
Masters of style among the great novelists are the excep- 
tion rather than the rule ; and the explanation probably is 
that in most cases the writer's energy and attention are en- 
gaged with the processes of invention to the comparative 
neglect of the matter of expression. Dickens is inclined 
to a decided carelessness in style, and at times even to 
coarseness. While his style is undoubtedly effective foi 
its purpose, it lacks those minute perfections or those 
magic splendors which characterize the very greatest work 
in prose expression. When we come to the more impor- 
tant matters of his art, Dickens's real mastery begins to 
appear. He is a great story-teller. His plots are large, 
varied, and complicated ; but he displays great skill in the 
handling of the broad and intricate construction. What is 
still more apparent, he is a wonderful inventor of incident, 
and is able by this means alone to hold the unflagging 
interest of the reader. There is some tendency to loose- 
ness and digression in his stories ; but this is hardly more 
than might be expected, and is lost sight of in the interest 
of the whole and in the fascination of the details. An 
incalculable aid to his narrative is the clearness and vivid- 
ness of his description. It is often highly idealized, but it 
never fails of distinctness or of life. It is probably in the 
creation of character that his greatest genius is displayed. 
His characters are in a sense representative of the author's 
theories and purposes rather than of human life. It may 
also be said that they are typical of virtues and vices 



366 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

rather than of men and women. It may be still further 
added that they are frequently exaggerated and fanciful. 
All this is true, but it does not serve to shake a single leaf 
from the laurel of his fame. In spite of all the limitations 
that have been justly urged, but urged perhaps too much, 
Dickens is still to be regarded as a great creator of charac- 
ter. The imagination is the court of last resort for judging 
the works of the imagination — not any supposed standard 
of observation or experience ; and to the imagination, the 
characters of Dickens declare themselves alive — thoroughly 
English, thoroughly human, thoroughly lifeHke, in spite 
of all limitation. They are alive with the superabundant 
vitality of their creator. It is not the least of his pecuhari- 
ties that Dickens identifies himself with his work, becoming 
as it were the companion of his characters as well as their 
maker. The effect of this on his work is not altogether 
happy, any more than is the effect of his constant intro- 
duction of a practical purpose into his stories of life ; but 
none of these things vitally affect the real power and 
impressiveness of his novels. 

When all is said, it remains true that Dickens is one of 
the most popular and influential of Enghsh novehsts. He 
General ^^^ been scriously criticised, and he is fairly 

Estimate open to scrious criticism, on more than merely 
technical grounds. His exaggeration, his sensationaHsm, 
his sentimentaHty, his coarseness, his didacticism, are all 
fair objects of attack. If he is great in spite of these 
faults, it is because he opposes to them much greater vir- 
tues. He teaches the essential truth of life, even if he 
does distort the outward fact. He is not only a great 
preacher and moraUst, but he is a truly great artist as well. 
Notwithstanding his seeming affectations, he is at bottom 
sincere, simple, tender, genial, manly, and true. His great- 
ness is due to a high development of certain remarkable 
powers. His limitations are due to the comparative failure 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON— THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 367 

of certain other powers and to a lack of proportion and 
harmony between his various artistic qualities. His abid- 
ing reputation will be that of a great humorist, a great 
novelist, and a great master of the human heart. 

There are some points of resemblance between Dickens 
and Thackeray, but in the main their paths diverge. The 
difference appears first of all in their lives. Thackeray 
was born in Calcutta in 181 1, but was early sent to Eng- 
land for education at the famous Charterhouse School in 
London. From here he went to Trinity Colles^e, 

•^ ° William 

Cambridge, but did not remain long at the Uni- Makepeace 
versity. After spending some time in travel ^^ ^^^^ 
and in study of art on the continent, he returned to London 
and began his literary career. His fame grew slowly but 
surely until his death in 1863. The insanity of his wife 
brought an element of deep pathos into his life, but his 
last days were comparatively happy and serene. Thack- 
eray may be called a novelist of life and manners. This 
implies that he was the painter of an age and of a particu- 
lar state of society rather than of essential humanity. Such 
an implication would be in the main just, although we must 
guard ourselves from the error of supposing that he was 
entirely limited to a narrow field or that his work has no 
large human significance. In many ways his portrayals 
are true, and will always be true, to the characteristics of 
general humanity. It may be said that he was a student 
of life rather than of the individual soul. 

The actual field of life which he chose for that study 
was a comparatively limited one. It was the life of Eng- 
lish high society, a life of artificial and conven- character of 
tional manners. It was a less fruitful field than i^sWork 
that of Dickens, who had more opportunity to observe 
the natural workings of the human heart. Neverthe- 
less, if one could see beneath the surface, humanity was 
there, however falsified and concealed. Within his limits, 



368 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

Thackeray finds a considerable variety of character, al- 
though the natural tendency of an artificial society is to 
restrict individuality and to reduce all characters to a few 
well-known types. To a certain extent this tendency is 
observable in Thackeray's portrayal. Indeed, he occa- 
sionally has almost repetitions of character. An interest- 
ing case is that of William Dobbin, in Vanity Fair, who 
seems like a preliminary study for Thackeray's superb 
masterpiece of character portrayal, old Colonel Newcome, 
of The Newcomes. Thackeray shows in all his novels a 
real knowledge of the human heart, and is a past master 
in his acquaintance with the social conditions that he por- 
trays. His method of treatment is decidedly realistic. He 
has no disposition to idealize life or to seize only on its 
romantic elements. On the contrary, his chief impulse is 
toward a graphic portrayal of actual facts and conditions. 
This portrayal is not to be called either superficial or pro- 
found. Thackeray certainly does go beneath the mere 
surface of life ; but just as certainly he does not fathom 
the depths. In the construction of his novels, .life and 
character are much more important than plot. He intro- 
duces a moral purpose, but in his own way. It is not as 
with Dickens the purpose to reform institutions or to advo- 
cate a particular cause ; it is rather to attack human weak- 
ness and folly and to rebuke a system of life. 

On the surface, Thackeray was a man of the world, 
acquainted with all its ways. He thoroughly understood 
Character of ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ meauncss and hollowness of polite 
the Man socicty; and his knowledge results in disillusion, 
both for himself and for his reader. We are led behind 
the scenes, and shown the tinsel and the sham which 
make up the fine-appearing spectacle. The result is that 
Thackeray is apparently a cynic and a pessimist. Such a 
conclusion, however, would not be justified by a deeper 
knowledge of the facts. He was, indeed, a spirit quick to 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON— THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 369 

scorn and despise, a good hater of all sham and pretence, 
of all vileness and meanness. Ever ready he was with 
his mocking laughter and his potent ridicule. On any 
due occasion, he was capable of the most scathing irony 
and of the most bitter sarcasm. Yet, rightly understood, 
this was only the surface of the man. Beneath that sur- 
face was a most genuine and manly and noble spirit. 
Thackeray was a behever in the essential goodness of 
humanity, although he understood so much of its Httle- 
ness and its badness. He was a man of kindly and ge- 
nial nature, in spite of his keen and bitter words. Beneath 
his satirical manner, he hid a tender and compassionate 
heart. Moreover, Thackeray was a man of faith and 
hope. If he saw things as they were, with the scientific 
clearness and frankness of his age, if he put away all illu- 
sion, he nevertheless found it possible to discover the 
spiritual element in life and to have faith in what men 
might be and in what already they largely were. All his 
scorn and bitterness grew, not out of a petty or churUsh 
spirit, but out of the real nobility of his nature. It grew 
out of his intense indignation against the vile and the 
false, and his no less intense love for the true and the 
pure. His work is marked by a customary restraint of 
emotion, in sharp contrast with the rather excessive dis- 
play of feeling in the work of Dickens. Nevertheless, 
Thackeray was a man of strong and deep feeling. Be- 
yond the evidence of his work there is the evidence of 
the patience and loving-kindness of his life. 

Thackeray's genius as a literary artist was very unhke 
that of Dickens, but the two men were at least alike in 
being keen observers of life. This, of course, Genius as an 
was of especial importance to a realistic novel- ^^^^ 
ist like Thackeray. His knowledge of life was accurate, 
and his purpose was to be equally accurate in the por- 
trayal. For such a purpose, observation is much, insight 



370 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

is more. If Thackeray's insight was not profound, it was 
at least genuine and just, and fitted him for the portrayal 
of Hfe in more than a merely superficial sense. Such 
knowledge of life as came to him in these ways, he had 
the gift to use as a fine artist in the realm of fiction. Per- 
haps his most remarkable power is his ability in character- 
ization. He is subtle in his analysis of human feeling and 
motive. He is for the most part truly original in his con- 
ceptions. His characters are his own, and yet are created 
with fidelity to the great copy which he found in real life. 
The characters thus analyzed and conceived, he is able to 
realize in living beings that appeal to the imagination. 
Beyond the ability to portray individual characters is the 
ability to portray a large and faithful picture of life. 
Here, also, Thackeray's fine imagination is equal to its 
task. It is clear, penetrating, vivid, fertile, genuinely 
creative. Less vigorous than that of Dickens, it is more 
restrained and better balanced. Its results are symmet- 
rical, orderly, precise. The pictures which his imagina- 
tion creates are given depth and solidity by the fact that 
Thackeray was a really serious thinker. His reflections 
on human life have a value largely independent of the 
particular forms through which they are presented. On 
this side of his work, he appeals more to mature minds. 
Dickens is the novelist of the young, the vigorous, the 
hopeful, the sanguine. Thackeray is rather the novelist 
of the experienced, the thoughtful, and the reflective, and 
to appreciate him fully requires a certain degree of men- 
tal growth. Thackeray's emotional power is quiet, regu- 
lated, restrained, but none the less strong. Pathos in his 
work is comparatively rare, but he shows himself capable 
on occasion of touching the heart's tenderer emotions. 
There is hardly a finer illustration of quiet and restrained 
pathos in all English fiction than his brief account of the 
death of old Colonel Newcome. As a humorist, his power 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 371 

is freely displayed. He ranges from broad and almost 
farcical humor to the Iceenest sarcasm and the most deli- 
cate irony. As a rule, however, his humor is not the 
hearty and boisterous humor of Dickens, but is more 
subtle, keen, refined, bitter, an exceedingly effective 
weapon of satire and ridicule. It can hardly be called al- 
together amiable. Thackeray laughs at the world rather 
than with it, and uses his powers of wit not so much to 
delight as to sting. Another characteristic emotion is his 
moral indignation. Often veiled, seldom expressed in di- 
rect and formal terms, it is none the less powerfully felt 
in his portrayal of life and in his characteristic comment 
upon the doings of men and women. Beneath this indig- 
nation, giving it fineness as well as strength, is an intense 
love of moral beauty. If Thackeray portrays for the most 
part those phases of life that deserve his satire, if he rep- 
resents the wickedness and the weakness of the world, he 
has nevertheless a noble appreciation of all that is pure 
and sweet and genuine in character. His pictures of life 
exalt beauty by contrast and suggestion rather than by 
direct presentation ; but he makes us feel that in spite of 
all the evil and the littleness of the world there is yet 
much in it of the savor of true goodness. Thackeray is 
not a great narrator. His plots are comparatively unin- 
teresting, and he is largely lacking in the skill of the 
great literary architect. What he does possess is the 
power to present such a graphic and fascinating picture 
of men and women that the interest of the mere story is 
hardly missed. To this end contributes not a httle his 
skill in graphic and suggestive description. Still further, 
he is one of the most finished masters of prose style 
among English novelists. His qualities are those of 
clearness, finish, ease, incisiveness, and vivacity. 

The interest of Thackeray's novels, as we have implied, 
is primarily an interest in men and women vividly portrayed. 



372 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

His characters are well defined, individual, and lifelike. 
Work as a He portrays male characters better than fe- 
male, and mature persons better than children. 
The characters in any one of his novels are comparatively 
few in number, whereas Dickens crowds his stories with 
a great number of personages. These characters are so 
related to each other as to form a natural, consistent, and 
faithful picture of life, and to suggest the movements of 
the larger world outside their narrow circle. The narrative 
is subordinate in interest, but the thread of the story is suffi- 
cient to give unity to the whole. It is easy and graceful, 
but comparatively lacking in movement, in complication, 
in climax, and in dramatic effect. His descriptions, always 
admirable, are mostly of persons, situations, and conditions. 
There is little description of nature, and it is characteristic 
of him that he deliberately avoids, in Vanity Fair, an ex- 
cellent opportunity to describe the battle of Waterloo. 
The proper business of conducting the story and portraying 
the characters is almost always accompanied in his novels 
with a running comment of satire on human follies and of 
moral reflections on life. These are exceedingly interest- 
ing for their own sake, independently of the story. To 
use his own figure, they are like the comments of the 
showman displaying his puppets. The effect of this on 
his art as a novelist is not altogether happy. Satire in art, 
if carried too far, tends to force the author upon us and 
tends also both to distract our attention from the characters 
and to distort them in the interests of the satirical purpose. 
Moralizing in art interrupts the stofy for the sake of the 
sermon and mars the proper unity, proportion, and con- 
tinuity. If the moral purpose be less broad and human 
than Thackeray's, it tends to destroy the work of art 
altogether. Taken as they are, his novels are full of 
fascination to the mature mind. The reader may well 
forget all cavil in genuine gratitude and admiration. 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 373 

What the novel could be, however, in such hands and 
without these objectionable features, Thackeray himself has 
shown us. In Hemy Esmond, he has presented one of the 
most perfect historical pictures ever drawn — a transcript 
from the life of the early part of the eighteenth century. 
The narrator of the story is Henry Esmond himself, and 
all satirical and moralizing comment on the part of the 
author is necessarily eliminated. As a result, we have an 
example of the art of prose fiction pure and simple. All 
Thackeray's genius is there without its hindrances. It is 
his masterpiece, and in it his true greatness as a novelist is 
fully revealed. 

George Eliot was the pen name of Mary Ann Evans, 
hardly less than the greatest woman of genius in English 
literature. Her career is an illustration of the 
production of great art out of comparatively ^°^^^ 
narrow conditions and out of comparatively humble ma- 
terials. Like Jane Austen, she was born in a rural com- 
munity and matured her genius within a narrow life circle. 
Her native county was Warwickshire — the county of 
Shakespeare — but like Shakespeare, she transcends in 
spirit the bounds of Warwickshire and of England. For 
over thirty years, she lived in this quiet midland country, 
on the farm or in the quaint provincial town of Coventry. 
Her earliest acquaintance was with a life natural and 
unsophisticated — a life where humanity was visible in its 
simplest and most typical forms. By insight into such 
life, she learned to know what life was in its depths quite 
as well as Dickens learned to know it by his wide acquaint- 
ance with EngHsh types of character or as Thackeray 
learned to know it by his study of London society. She 
was destined, however, to a far wider knowledge of the 
world and to a far larger intellectual development than 
these early years seemed to promise. In 1851 she settled 
in London as assistant editor of the Westminster Reviezv, 



374 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

and was there brought into association with the most 
prominent Uberal thinkers of the day. Her union with 
George Henry Lewes, which followed soon after, was 
of the utmost importance to her literary career ; for under 
his influence she came to a realization of her genius as a 
novelist. After his death, in 1878, she was married to 
Mr. Cross, a London banker. She died in 1880, at the 
age of sixty-one. In spite of her broad experience of life 
and of her large intellectual culture, her temper remained 
thoroughly EngHsh. Through her provincial origin and 
sympathies, she had the roots of her genius deep in the 
soil of English life. Hers was the largest life from 
the narrowest circumstances, the broadest art through 
the most limited subject. 

At the basis of George Eliot's character was her intense 
emotional nature. She had a heart full of tenderness and 
The Woman V^^J- ^^^ lovcs and friendships make up much 
and the Artist of the story of her life. Her experiences were 
such as to subject her emotional temper to an unusual 
development. The sorrows of her life, her deep heart 
experiences, her physical sufferings, her religious struggles, 
all tended to develop a profoundly sad yet serene nature. 
The wide range of her emotional powers and experiences 
had an important influence upon her work ; for she 
learned how to portray in others the feeling that she had 
known herself. Hardly less important was her large in- 
tellectuality and her broad culture. Her mind seems in 
many ways masculine rather than feminine ; and all her 
work is evidence of her force and breadth, as well as of 
her subtlety, of intellect. Her life was largely spent in 
extensive reading and study ; and as a result, she had a 
wide knowledge of literature, history, and art. The condi- 
tions of the age brought this large heart and this large 
mind into conflict with one another. She was a woman of 
deep religious instinct, and her early rehgious experiences 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON —THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 375 

were largely determined by her emotional nature. As she 
grew in mental power and in philosophical and scientific 
knowledge, her intellectuality radically affected her relig- 
ious views. She passed through a time of doubt and 
struggle, but did not gain the spiritual victory of Carlyle. 
Her later attitude toward religion was agnostic. Religious 
by nature, she yet found it impossible to believe, and 
accepted the conditions of the age and of her own mind 
with a sad sincerity. Her reverence of spirit remained the 
same. Her conscientiousness in Hfe and in work are an 
inspiring example. Above all, the altruism which she 
believed in and preached reveals the tenderness, the 
unselfishness, the real devotion of her nature. Her great- 
ness of spirit as well as her limitations of faith may be 
clearly seen in her poem beginning, 

O may I join the choir invisible 

Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence : live 

In pulses stirred to generosity, 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 

For miserable aims that end with self, 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 

And with their mild persistence urge man's search 

To vaster issues. 

" So to live," she says," is heaven "; and this was the only 
heaven, the only immortality, in which she found it possible 
to believe. It was a noble faith, if not the highest. There 
was, at least, no pretence in her nature, either in religious 
or in other matters. Her character was, indeed, strikingly 
simple and sincere. While she was not a great poet, the 
passage just quoted is illustrative of the fact that she did 
produce a small body of pure and lofty verse. Doubtless 
this poetic element in her genius serves to touch her work 
as a novelist to finer issues. That work gains a unique 
quality also from the singular combination of masculine 
and feminine traits in her character. 



376 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

Speaking more specifically of her genius as a novelist, 
we must first note her wonderful breadth of sympathy. 
Probably no English novelist has had a more profound or 
Her Genius as ^ Hiorc cathoHc interest in human life, and the 
a NoveUst same spirit is shown in her love for nature and 
for domestic animals. Such sympathy is the first condition 
of understanding, and it is clear that George EUot did un- 
derstand. The depth of her insight was matched by its 
deUcacy ; for she had all the penetrating vigor of a man 
matched with the refined subtlety of a woman. These 
gifts for the comprehension of human Ufe were supplemented 
by equal gifts for presenting it in concrete forms. She 
had a great creative imagination. By its power she could 
conceive original, definite, and individual characters, and 
could body them forth in vivid reality. Nothing is more 
remarkable than her marvelous power of endowing her 
creatures with life. Seemingly without effort, she breathes 
into them her own living spirit, and makes them live and 
move, not as mere puppets, but as actual men and women. 
She is essentially a delineator of the soul, presenting man's 
spiritual nature through his outward form and conduct. 
Yet, as we have implied, there is no lack of solid flesh 
and blood in her characters. Hers is not a presenta- 
tion of the spirit instead of the flesh ; it is a presenta- 
tion of the spirit through the flesh. Akin to this is 
her power to reach the universal through the local. In 
many of her novels, the life portrayed is very narrow and 
restricted; yet her presentation is broadly human and 
typical of man's life under any conditions. She knows 
that if one will but go deep enough anywhere, he may 
reach essential human nature, that which makes the whole 
world kin. This contrast between the narrow life and the 
larger meaning is finely illustrated in Adam Bede, which 
is probably her masterpiece, and even more emphatically 
in Silas Mamer. She began by being a great observer, 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON— THE NOVEL (1832-1892) ijy 

viewing life accurately and endeavoring to portray it faith- 
fully. She added to her fineness of observation a depth 
of insight and a sense of spiritual values which enabled 
her to portray the inward as well as the outward life. 
Moreover, she had power to discern the poetry and the 
beauty which lie beneath the surface of life and which 
sometimes transfigure the lowHest characters. She was, 
indeed, a lover of the beautiful in art, in nature, and in the 
human soul, and could discover the beauty of common 
things as well as of common men and women. Her emo- 
tional power is also a most important element in her crea- 
tions. Her pathos is the simple and unforced pathos of 
human life and destiny. There is, on the one hand, no un- 
due restraint, and on the other, no striving for mere effect. 
She is a great humorist, not loud and boisterous like Dick- 
ens, not keenly satirical like Thackeray, but with a breadth, 
a healthiness, and a geniality quite in harmony with her 
sane and realistic view of life. 

George Eliot's realism is of the highest and best type. 
Like both Dickens and Thackeray, she goes to the actual 
world for her subjects. She deals for the most part with 
English rural and provincial life, and especially 
with the lower and middle classes. This was ^^'" ^"^J^'^ts 
the life she knew best and the life on which most of her 
greatest novels are based. She began her work in fiction 
with Scenes from Clerical Life, containing three separate 
stories associated with the general theme. The success of 
this work encouraged her to the writing of her first great 
novel, Adam Bede. It is a vivid and most human picture 
of life in just such a rural community as that in which she 
grew up ; but it becomes even more than that by virtue of 
the profound passions by which its characters are moved. 
The Mill on the Floss and Silas Marner are novels of much 
the same general type. The former probably reflects in 
an indirect way much of her own personal feeling and 



378 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

experience. The latter is the most restricted in its subject- 
matter of all her great works, and at the same time the 
most objective and most free from intrusion of the author's 
personality. Middlemarch deals with life in a small pro- 
vincial town, but its range and variety of character is some- 
what greater. In Romola and in Daniel Deronda, she took 
a much wider sweep. The latter has been most criticised 
of all her novels, and is probably the least successful of 
her larger works. Romola has also found its critics, but 
it contains some of her most masterly work. It is a his- 
torical novel, dealing with Florentine life in the days of 
Savonarola ; and its fine contrast between the fervid asceti- 
cism of the great Italian reformer and the beauty-loving 
self-indulgence of the Greek Tito Melema calls forth some 
of her. greatest powers. Everywhere George Eliot knows 
her subject. In the novels of English life, she knows it 
because she has been a living part of it. In such a work 
as Romola, she knows it by wide learning and by care- 
ful study. If she is less successful in work of the latter 
sort, it is because she could not possibly feel with her 
more remote characters quite the same vital sympathy that 
she feels with her own Warwickshire blood. This is a nec- 
essary limitation on all artists, and is not to be helped except 
by such intimate and profound knowledge of the general 
human heart as she undoubtedly possessed. 

Her manner of conception and her method of treatment 
make her works a study of life rather than a study of mere 
manners. She is concerned, not with the acci- 
dental, but with the essential. Her handling of 
life is truthful, but at the same time really imaginative and 
poetic. Her chief interest Hes in the study of individual 
character ; and that study is made significant by the depth 
of her insight and by the subtlety of her analysis. These 
individual characters she is able to combine into a large 
and impressive picture of life. While her plots are always 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 379 

subordinate, they are never uninteresting ; and if she has 
not quite the fascination of a great story-teller, like Scott 
or Dickens, she does possess a fair degree of skill in con- 
struction. The chief limitation on the general effect of 
many of her novels lies in her strong tendency to infuse 
into them a subjective element by means of her moral and 
philosophical reflections on the life that she is portraying. 
This same habit has been already noted in Thackeray, 
though in somewhat different form. In George Eliot, this 
tendency toward abstract thought instead of concrete por- 
trayal is in peculiar contrast with her really great dramatic 
power. She portrays her characters without any infusion 
into them of her own personality, and then delivers her 
philosophical sermon as a thing almost apart. She was at 
the same time a great thinker and a great creator of 
character, and she was not quite able to keep her abstract 
thinking separate from her portrayal. In the main, her 
criticism of human life is both serious and conscientious, 
and falls short of the very greatest work only because she 
felt impelled to preach as well as to portray. Her novels 
are at least not marred by prejudice or by any satiric or 
merely didactic purpose ; and even her occasional moral 
dissertations are in harmony with her portrayal. She has 
of late been unduly depreciated ; but it is safe to say that 
her fame will eventually recover its own. Nothing can 
permanently obscure the fact that her novels are great 
works of art — true, beautiful, and profound pictures of 
human life. In the creation of lifelike character, she has 
hardly had any superior since Shakespeare. 

With these three great novelists as chief examples of 
the voluminous fiction of the age, we must be here con- 
tent. The briefest possible glance at the rest 1^^^^ 
of the field will serve the simple purpose of NoveUsts 
illustrating the range and variety of work that was pro- 
duced., Edward Bulwer-Lytton (1803-1873) was a ver- 



38o DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

satile novelist, sensitive to changes of literary fashion. 
He began as early as 1827 with novels of the ''dandy" 
type. His taste was for romantic sentiment and for ef- 
fects of criminal and supernatural terror. The influence of 
Scott turned him toward the historical novel, and here 
he produced some of his best works, like The Last Days 
of Pompeii and Harold. Still later, Thackeray turned him 
in the direction of realism. His last phase was again 
romantic, but in the fashion of the new age. Benjamin 
Disraeli (i 804-1 881) has some affinities with Bulwer- 
Lytton, especially in his cleverness, versatility, brilliancy, 
and superficiality. His most effective novels are pictures 
of political and fashionable life in his own day. They are 
romantic, cynical, witty, imaginative — the work of a bril- 
liant man of the world rather than of a really great novel- 
ist. Anthony Trollope (1815-1882) was a sort of lesser 
Thackeray. He dealt in realistic fashion with a wide 
range of English life — clerical, political, commercial, and 
rural. His work is that of an industrious and competent 
literary craftsman, never rising very high and never falling 
very low. Charles Reade (18 14-1884) reminds us rather 
of Dickens. Led by the age to the choice of reahstic 
subjects, his personal impulse was to deal with them in a 
romantic manner. His best work. The Cloister and the 
Hearth, is a historical novel. Charlotte Bronte (1816- 
1855) suggests comparison with George Eliot, but the com- 
parison is one of contrast. In a way quite her own, she 
presented real life in its romantic aspects. Charles Kings- 
ley (18 19-1875) wrote some effective novels of purpose, 
with democratic leanings, and some still better historical 
novels. Robert Louis Stevenson (i 845-1 894) brought 
back the atmosphere of true romance into English fiction. 
Sometimes it is the romance of pure adventure, as in 
Treasure Island, sometimes the deeper romance of the 
human spirit, as in Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It represents 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON— THE NOVEL (1832-1892) 381 

a reaction from the realistic and scientific temper of the 
age. These are by no means all of the really important 
novelists of the time. They are simply the best or the 
most typical. These among the dead, together with George 
Meredith and others still among the living, are convincing 
illustrations of the fulness, richness, and power of the novel 
during the Victorian Period. 







Thackeray's House in London, where " Vanity Fair," " Pen- 
DENNis," and " Henry Esmond " were Written 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 

Of the four poets who must be selected from the larger 
company to represent the poetry of the present age, 
Matthew Matthew Arnold was much the youngest and 
^^^^^ began his poetical career at considerably the 

latest date. That career, however, was almost entirely 
confined to the earlier part of his life, and was practically 
ended nearly a quarter of a century before the latest of 
the others had ceased to write. Arnold was born in 1822, 
and was a son of Dr. Thomas Arnold, the famous head 
master of Rugby. After finishing his preHminary educa- 
tion at Rugby, he entered Balliol College, Oxford, and 
later became a fellow of Oriel College. The religious 
controversies which were stirring the University in his 
time united with the general tendencies of the age to unsettle 
Arnold's faith ; and the note of spiritual conflict is heard 
through much of his poetry as well as through his later 
prose. During the greater part of his Hfe, he held the 
responsible position of an inspector of schools ; and from 
1857 to 1867 he was professor of poetry at Oxford. His 
first volume of poems was published in 1848, and his 
poetical period continued to the time of his Oxford pro- 
fessorship. After that time, he was almost exclusively a 
writer of prose until his death in 1888. It will thus 
appear that his prose work was the product of his later 
life, while his poetry was the outcome of his younger 
manhood, before the chilling influences of the age had 
entirely silenced his poetic voice. The quality of his prose 
and its indication of the character of the man, we have 

382 




firi^n^SlurT^rTthu, 



li 



I 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 383 

already sufficiently considered. It remains here to speak 
of his poetry and to observe the light which it also throws 
upon his personality. 

Between Arnold's poetry and his prose there is singu- 
lar difference. He seems to have reserved for poetical 
expression those moods of sadness, of world- his spirit of 
weariness, of anguished doubt, and of stoical ^°"^* 
resignation and renunciation which probably represented 
what lay most deeply hidden in his nature. We hear the 
voice of one who has been disturbed to the very centre of 
his spiritual life by the doubt so prevalent during the 
middle years of the nineteenth century. The faith in 
which he had been reared failed him utterly, and seemed 
to be passing away also out of the world. He says in 
Dover Beach : 

The Sea of Faith 

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore 

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furPd ! 

But now I only hear 

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 

Retreating, to the breath 

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear 

And naked shingles of the world. 

There could hardly be a more pathetic expression of the 
deep melancholy of doubt. There could hardly be a more 
beautiful one. He seems, as he says in his Stanzas from 
the Grande Chartreuse, like one 

Wandering between two worlds, one dead, 
The other powerless to be born. 

Through most of his poetry this same spirit runs, this 
painful sense of 

The something that infects the world. 

To all this pain and emptiness, Arnold opposes first 
resignation, then duty. In the poem entitled Morality, he 
declares : 



384 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

We cannot kindle when we will 

The fire which in the heart resides ; 

The spirit bloweth and is still, 

In mystery our soul abides. 

But tasks in hours of insight willed 

Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled. 

In a poem like Palladium, as more or less in many 
others, it is made clear to us that Arnold has a still further 
HisConsoia- consolation. Doubt has not made him a materi- 
tions ^ijg^ . j^g g^jii beUeves in the soul as something 

above the flesh. 

Still doth the soul, from its lone fastness high. 
Upon our life a ruling effluence send ; 
And when it fails, fight as we will, we die ; 
And, while it lasts, we cannot wholly end. 

In Rugby Chapel, we see him standing by the grave of his 
father, a man of *' radiant vigor " and of splendid faith. 
The contrast between father and son is as pathetic as 
it is significant. From thought of what the father was, 
the son draws inspiration and courage and even some- 
thing of faith. Yet after all, he knows full well that he 
must be sufficient unto himself. The sense of isolation is 
upon him, as well as the sense of lost faith. He cries in 
Marguerite : 

Yes ! in the sea of life enisled. 
With echoing straits between us thrown, 
Dotting the shoreless watery wild. 
We mortal millions live alone. 

The few lines that have been quoted would alone be 
sufficient to show the classical perfection of Arnold's poetic 
Character of Style. He is a poct of limited range and product, 
his Poetry but almost all that he has written is worthy to 
live. He lacked the passion and the music that make a 
great lyric poet, although his exquisite art sometimes 
achieved most beautiful effects. Of his narrative poems, 
only one is a genuine success. In Sohrab and Rustuniy 



I 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 385 

however, his classic style is combined with a romantic story 
to fine poetic results. His true field is that of meditation 
and reflection rather than that of passionate heart utter- 
ance or of objective portrayal. There is passion in Arnold's 
poetry, but it is rather a passion of the brain. Beyond the 
poems already mentioned, some of his finest work is to be 
found in The Strayed Reveller, in that beautiful piece of 
pure poetic fancy. The Forsaken Merman, and in his elegiac 
poems. Thyrsis, a monody on the death of his friend and 
fellow-poet, Arthur Hugh Clough, is one of the most beauti- 
ful elegies in the language ; and scarcely less noteworthy is 
its companion poem, The Scholar- Gypsy. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was a woman of fine intelli- 
gence and of broad culture ; but in almost all other re- 
spects she was in strong contrast with Matthew 
Arnold. In his poetry, it is the intellect that Barrett 
speaks ; in hers, it is the heart. In all that he 
wrote, there is the classical refinement and finish that marks 
the presence of a fine critical faculty ; Mrs. Browning had 
the fire and the inspiration, but lacked more than anything 
else the power of self-criticism. In still more important 
matters there is the same apparent divergence. So far as 
we can see, Mrs. Browning was almost untouched by the 
scientific spirit of the age or by its reHgious struggle and 
doubt. Unlike George EHot, she was thoroughly feminine 
in nature ; and her woman's intuition found the spiritual 
where it could not be found by much intellectual searching. 
In an analytic and inquiring age, she was a creature of 
passion and impulse, a lover of romance and of the beauty 
of Italy and Greece. She was touched, however, by the 
democratic spirit, or rather by something that is or should 
be the fine flower of democracy — the spirit of sweet hu- 
man charity for all God's creatures. None of her poems 
affords better illustration of this than The Cry of the Chil- 
dren, a poetic protest against the sacrifice of child life to 



386 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

the modern spirit of industrialism. That she loved liberty, 
is written large in Casa Guidi Windows and in many other 
poems. 

Two main faults are charged against Mrs. Browning's 
poetry. In the first place, it is said that she lacked definite- 
ness in her conceptions and a clear and well-ordered arrange- 
ment of her material — in other words, that she 

Her Poetry 

was somewhat vague and diffuse. In the second 
place, it is said that she was extremely careless in details 
of style and metre. These are important matters, and it is 
probable that in both cases the full justice of the criticism 
must be allowed. It can only be pleaded against them 
that they should not be given undue weight to the detri- 
ment of her poetic fame, and that they are more than offset 
by certain other qualities which she possessed in an eminent 
degree. In the first place, the whole tone and character of 
her thought was poetic. Her ideas were such as naturally 
sought expression in poetry rather than in prose. It might 
even be said, more broadly, that her whole character and 
temper were poetic. She carried about her, so to say, a 
poetic atmosphere. This being true, poetry was to her a 
thoroughly natural mode of utterance — less an art than an 
instinct ; and this may in some measure account for an 
ease which often amounted to carelessness. Such a nature 
would least feel the need of a discipline like that which 
made Pope and Tennyson such perfect poetic artists ; and 
that discipline was precisely what her spontaneous genius 
most needed. Perhaps her preeminent gift was poetic 
passion. It was poured out richly into such brief lyrics as 
The Cry of the Hitman, The Honse of Clouds, Cowper's 
Grave, Catarina to Camoens, and A Musical Instj'itment ; it 
informed many a fine passage even in her long verse novel, 
Aurora Leigh ; it rang with a high and resonant note in 
her poems on Italian freedom and in Casa Guidi Windows ; 
it is nowhere more apparent than in her Sojinets from the 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON —POETRY (1832-1892) 387 

Poj'tuguese. Such poems as many of these illustrate, too, 
her fine gift of lyric music. She was a splendid singer, 
even if she was sometimes guilty of a false note. We 
must grant her also the larger endowment of poetic im- 
agination. She could see, clearly and vividly, and she was 
able in large measure to "realize" her vision in outward 
forms. Among other poems that strikingly illustrate her 
imaginative power, may be named The Rhyme of the Duchess 
May and A Vision of Poets. These and all her poems illus- 
trate the charm of poetic beauty that is everywhere in her 
work and that exalts it above all detraction. 

Mrs. Browning's masterpiece, the work that best illus- 
trates all her poetic powers, is her Sonnets from the Portu- 
guese. It is a sonnet cycle, enshrining to a poetic 
immortahty her love for Robert Browning. The from the 

... ., r TIT • r 1 Portuguese 

title IS a mere veil or fanciful disguise ; for the 
poems are all original, personal, and intimate. The whole 
number of sonnets is forty-four, and the series illustrates 
different phases in the progress of herpassion. She records 
how love came to her as she stood expecting death, how 
she feared to look so high or to accept such bliss, how her 
love bade her rather prepare for renunciation, how she found 
her supreme joy at last in acceptance and in self-surrender. 
This is the next to the last of the sonnets : 

How do I love thee ? Let me count the ways. 

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 

For the ends of being and ideal grace. 

I love thee to the level of every day's 

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. 

I love thee freely, as men strive for right. 

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. 

I love thee with the passion put to use 

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. 

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath. 



388 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

Smiles, tears, of all my life ; and, if God choose, 
I shall but love thee better after death. 

Of all the great men of literary genius in his time, 
Robert Browning was the strongest, the sanest, and the 
RQijgrt healthiest in body and in spirit. The man was 

Browning alive in every fibre, and all his work is per- 
meated with the vigor of his intense personality. His long 
and happy life was comparatively uneventful. Born 
in London, in 18 12, he was educated under the direc- 
tion of his father and found later in foreign travel his 
substitute for a university training. There is ample evi- 
dence in his work that he was a man of rich learning and of 
broad culture. Aside from his literary achievements, the 
most interesting event of Browning's life was his marriage 
with Elizabeth Barrett. Theirs is one of the most beautiful 
love stories in all literature, and it was crowned by a 
happy wedded life of fifteen years, in Florence. The death 
of Mrs. Browning in 1861 was the great sorrow of his 
life. After that time, he spent most of his life in Eng- 
land, but died in Venice in 1889. 

Browning seems to have been comparatively unaffected 
by the great impulses of his age, either in the way of accept- 
Reiationto aucc or of antagonism. It was not that he did 
his Age not f ccl thcsc influences — at least in general 

and unconscious ways ; it was rather that he received 
them as a strong and steady and self-assured personality, 
not to be easily moved by any forces from his own 
place or direction. Science did not disturb his soul, and 
he was perfectly willing to accept all of its established 
conclusions ; but he was also perfectly aware of the 
questions that it was raising, and met them with an 
assured faith and optimism. His analytical habit was in 
entire harmony with the spirit of science, and so was his 
unhesitating willingness to look all truth in the face. But 
he received its message as a poet and as a man of faith, 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 389 

and was unshaken either in his poetic ideals or in his relig- 
ious assurance. While he was not a democrat in any- 
ordinary sense of the term — while he did not speak for 
human freedom or make himself the mouthpiece of ''the 
people " — he was nevertheless democratic in the broadest 
sense. Nothing human was alien to him, all men were his 
spiritual brothers, all personalities appealed to his catholic 
interest and sympathy. He cared little for actual political 
conditions, as he cared little for general laws or principles. 
What he cared for above all was the individual human 
soul, and in that field his interest was as broad as it was 
profound. There was probably the real basis of his un- 
shaken faith. If science found in its study of the natural 
world no evidence of spirit, and felt itself driven toward 
materialism. Browning, on the other hand, found in his study 
of human personality full reason to believe in the soul, in 
God, and in immortality. What others could not find in 
the physical facts or laws of the universe, he found in the 
essential nature of man. His faith and optimism, there- 
fore, were the result of no purblind orthodoxy but rather 
of a reasoned and well-grounded conviction. In this spirit, 
he spoke with assurance, with earnestness, with exultation, 
but in no temper of controversy or antagonism. In Rabbi 
Ben Ezra, he expresses himself thus : 

Fool ! All that is, at all, 
Lasts ever, past recall ; 
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure. 

It is one of the peculiar glories of Browning that he seems, 
almost from the first, to have caught as by a sort of intui- 
tion the spirit and teaching of his own generation, to have 
accepted its permanent gains, and then to have passed on 
beyond its doubts and fears to be the prophet of a new day 
when men should see with vision unclouded by the smoke 
and dust of conflict. 

Browning was, of course, a poet with a message. While 



390 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

he was primarily a great student and portrayer of life 
rather than a teacher, he understood well that life teaches 
and endeavored to interpret its meaning. We may prop- 
erly speak of his teaching as in some sense a philosophy 
HisPhiioso- of life. To touch on all the points involved in 
phy of Life ^^^^ philosophy would be to discuss most of his 
poetry. We can only attempt to blaze a way through the 
forest — or, as the dramatic and human quality of Brown- 
ing's poetry might rather suggest, to push a way through 
the crowd — indicating some of the main points of his 
thinking, leaving much to be inferred or imagined. 

Beginning on the lower levels of his thought. Browning 

was emphatically a poet who dealt with the physical life of 

man, who felt " the value and significance of 

The Flesh n 1 ,, tt • 1 n 1 • ^ ■, 

flesh. He was a man with all his senses keenly 
alive. His appreciation of the physical life, however, was 
something more thaii mere sensuousness of temperament. 
It was reasoned doctrine. It was not a physical life of 
luxurious enjoyment that Browning exalted, but one of 
strenuous endeavor. ' In Rabbi Ben Ezra, he urges : 

Strive, and hold cheap the strain ; 
Learn, nor account the pang ; dare, never grudge the throe! 

Strive, learn, dare — these three words indicate much of 
Browning's philosophy of life. 

Browning was, of course, something vastly more than the 
poet of the merely physical life, even in its highest and 
best manifestations. He was also, as Alfred Domett 
called him, the " Subtlest Assertor of the Soul 
in Song." He taught that soul and body may be 
mutually helpful in their union, that the body may serve 
to ''project the soul on its lone way." He taught, on the 
other hand, that the soul has its own aims and powers, and 
may, in the development of its higher functions, sometimes 
find the body a hindrance as well as a help. This and 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 391 

much more is finely expressed in a notable passage from 
Paracelsus : 

Truth is within ourselves ; it takes no rise 
From outward things, whate'er you may believe. 
There is an inmost centre in us all, 
Where truth abides in fulness ; and around, 
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in. 
This perfect, clear perception — which is truth. 
A baffling and perverting carna mesh 
Binds it, and makes all error : and to know 
Rather consists in opening out a way 
Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape, 
Than in effecting entry for a light 
Supposed to be without. 

This is not exactly the doctrine of modern realism in art 
and literature, any more than it is exactly the teaching of 
modern science. It is at least a splen lid poetic conception 
of man as the possessor of a living soil, out of which are 
the issues of life. One of Browning s favorite doctrines 
was that the unloosing of this " im risoned splendour " 
is achieved mainly through the contact of the soul with 
higher personalities, and ultimately \ ith the divine per- 
sonality. God may influence the soul through nature as 
well as through human personalities. Sometimes the soul 
may feel the direct and immediate touch of the divine per- 
sonaUty, without any intervention of nature or of other 
human souls. In any case, here is the soul, with its innate 
powers, to be eHcited by whatever means — not a blank 
sheet, to be written upon by hands human or divine, but an 
** imprisoned splendour," to be let loose for a light to men. 
To Browning, the great fact of our merely human life 
was the fact of man and woman — on the physical side, 

the fact of sex on the soul side, the fact of Love: Human 

spiritual difference and correspondence. There- ^"*^ ^^^^°® 
fore he magnified and glorified human love. He makes 
the Gypsy Queen in The Flight of the Duchess sing 
How love is the only good in the world. 



392 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

Even to the unrequited lover, love is good, as he has shown 
in that magnificent love-song. The Last Ride Together. 
Every reader of Browning knows what passionate intensity 
he has put into his portrayal of love. Pippa Passes^ In a 
Balcony, In a Gondola, these but afford some of the finest 
among many illustrations. Not out of his imagination 
alone did Browning write such love poetry as this. His 
own being had throbbed with the love that he describes ; 
and dramatic poet as he is, we can hear once and again 
the lyric voice of his own heart. How exalted was his 
personal affection, how infinitely more than merely sen- 
suous was his poetic treatment of human love, we 
may learn from all his poetry. We may learn also 
that his conception of love has a more than human 
range. As on the lower levels he saw the great fact 
of man and woman and exalted human love, so to 
him the great fact of the spiritual life was God and 
man, and he exalted spiritual love. God's love to us, 
our love to Him — this is the foundation and the ulti- 
mate reward of all faith. This is especially the great 
teaching of Saul and A Death in the Desert, as well as 
of other poems. 

Browning was first of all the poet of man — of man 
physical and man spiritual. He was also a poet vitally 
Man and interested in man's relation to the world around 
Nature \\vci^ — primarily, of course, in his relation to the 

visible world. Here Browning was met by the problems 
that modern science had raised, and like a true poet, he 
felt the weight and pressure of those problems. There 
was no revolt against science, but rather a frank and 
cordial acceptance of its demonstrated conclusions, with 
due recognition, however, of scientific Hmitations and 
with due protest against its unwarranted assumptions. 
He perceived the difficulties which science had placed 
in the way of faith, but here, again, he had no contro- 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 393 

versy with true science. In Bishop Blougram' s Apology, 
he makes the Bishop speak of 

Cosmogony, 
Geology, ethnology, what not 
(Greek endings, each the little passing-bell 
That signifies some faith's about to die) . 

Not for him, however, was science the passing-bell of 
faith. He was probably uttering somewhat of his own 
thought when he made Bishop Blougram say further : 

With me faith means perpetual unbelief 

Kept quiet like the snake 'neath MichaePs foot. 

Who stands firm just because he feels him writhe. 

Against all doubt, Browning preserved the full assurance 
that there is a world invisible as well as a world visible — 
a world supernatural as well as a world natu- The spiritual 
ral — and that man is living always in vital ^^'^'^^ 
relation to both. That God is, and that he is all-benefi- 
cent — in this supreme assurance, despite all temptation 
to believe otherwise, Browning lived and wrote. God is 
not altogether such as we are, though different minds 
will shadow forth conceptions of him determined by 
their own natures and capacities. In Caliban upon Sete- 
bos, the half beast Caliban sprawls " flat on his belly in 
the pit's much mire," "kicks both feet in the cool slush," 
and meditates upon " that other, whom his dam called 
God." How "heaven-high removed" from his conception 
is that of David as he sings before the stricken king 
in Saul, or that of the dying apostle in A Death in the 
Desert : 

If Christ, as thou affirmest, be of men 

Mere man, the first and best but nothing more, — 

Account Him, for reward of what He was, 

Now and forever, wretchedest of all . . . 

Call Christ, then, the illimitable God, 

Or lost! 



394 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

It is the test of death that puts all human theories to the 
proof. Neither Browning nor we can look beyond it to 
The Test of know what it shall bring ; but it is at least sig- 
Death nificant to know how the great poet contem- 

plated for himself the supreme change. He taught that 
man is spirit and immortal, that God is and loves, that 
death is but the doorway to an infinite progress of life 
beyond. Was his doctrine an actual stay to his own soul ? 
Did he himself face the thought of death '* fearless and 
unperplexed " ? Two of his briefer poems help to give 
us the answer. The first is Prospice\ written in the noon- 
tide of his own life, but just after the death of his 
wife. The other is the Epilogue to Asolando. It is the 
last poem of his last volume. As he read it over in its 
first printed form just before his departure, he said : " It 
almost looks like bragging to say this, and as if I ought to 
cancel it ; but it's the simple truth ; and as it's true it shall 
stand." He looked on the face of death with the same 
bold and confident spirit that had made him one of the 
great masters of life. 

Here was a great man, strong and subtle in mind, 
steadfast and confident in soul. Here was also a great 
A Dramatic poct, able to bring the resources of the poet's 
^°®* art into the service of a splendid intelligence. 

To him, more than to most men, poetry was an instru- 
ment of truth. As he himself says, in The Ring and the 

Booky 

Art remains the one way possible 
Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least. 

This truth he expresses through an objective and dramatic 
portrayal of life. He describes his own work as " poetry 
always dramatic in principle, the utterances of so many 
imaginary personages, not mine." We seldom hear his 
own direct voice, but ever the voices of the men and 
women whom his imagination has created. He portrays 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 395 

these men and women as they exist here and now. They 
are bodies, with all the powers and passions and weak- 
nesses of the flesh; they are souls, with all their infinite 
possibilities of joy or sorrow, of purity or degradation. 
They are living and acting in the midst of a real and 
visible world, but they are surrounded by a world invisible 
and spiritual. To illustrate Browning's portrayal of real 
men and women in the midst of their actual environment, 
we have only to open his volume at random and read ; for 
this is the task of all his poetry. 

Browning's favorite art form — a form that he made 
peculiarly his own — is the dramatic monologue. In prin- 
ciple, it is a type of poem in which the words are Dramatic 
uttered by an imaginary speaker, who reveals Monologue 
his character, his attitude, his situation, and perhaps throws 
some light upon other persons of whom or to whom he 
speaks. His marvelous insight into the human soul and 
his no less marvelous power of imaginative conception 
enable Browning to realize his dramatic purpose with 
equal subtlety and vividness. There are in reality several 
different types of dramatic monologue, the distinction be- 
tween which is important. There are first " Dramatic 
Lyrics " — like Old Pictures in Florence^ Saul., Abt Vogler^ 
and Rabbi Ben Ezra — in which the chief stress is laid 
upon an emotional state, and in which Browning displays 
a wonderful gift of pure lyric music. Then there are 
"Dramatic Romances" — like The Flight of the Duchess ^ 
In a Gondola^ and Childe Roland — in which character is 
associated with a romantic story. Again, there are ** Dra- 
matic Idyls " — like Pheidippides, Ned Bratts, and Clive — 
in which character is thrown out against the background 
of a vivid picture. Browning does not always clearly dis- 
criminate all these from the dramatic monologue proper — 
illustrated by Andrea del Sarto, Fra Lippo Lippi^ and 
Cleon — but he seems to have had the several types in 



396 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

mind. In the lyric and the monologue proper, the speaker 
is more likely to be unfolding himself — his emotional 
mood or his fuller personality. In the romance and the 
idyl, he is more likely to be unfolding the character of 
another. 

Browning's great masterpiece is The Ring and the Book. 
It is an immense work, and practically consists of a series 
The Ring and ^^ extended dramatic monologues. In the first 
the Book ^^^ last of the twelve books, he sets forth the 
pathetic story of Pompilia, a Roman girl murdered by her 
brutal husband, Count Guido. In each of the other ten, 
the case is reviewed by some more or less interested per- 
son, and we are led to see how the same simple facts 
make their varied impression upon different types of mind. 
The characters of Guido, Pompilia, Caponsacchi the noble 
priest, and the good Pope are magnificent creations ; and 
the whole work is a splendid exhibition of imaginative and 
poetic power. 

It remains to be observed that Browning attempted 
some work in the formal drama. In spite of his great 
dramatic genius, he was comparatively unsuc- 
ramas (>gssf^i^ Y^AS, power lay rather in illustrating 
critical moments in the history of an individual soul than 
in setting a picture of active life upon the stage. He was 
psychological and inward in his dealings with character, 
and showed too little the effective deeds of m.en. The 
abstruseness of his thought and the difficulties of his style 
were not favorable to stage presentation. In spite of 
these and other drawbacks, however, some of his dramas 
are in their way most striking productions. There, as 
always, he is the profound revealer of man's inner life. 
Probably his most effective play on the stage is A Blot in 
the 'Scutcheon, but Strafford has also been fairly successful. 
One of his finest masterpieces, Pippa Passes, is hardly to 
be called a drama at all. It lies rather between the true 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 397 

drama and the monologue. One of his earliest works, it 
still remains one of the most beautiful and perfect. Not 
even in portraying the little silk-winding girl, whose simple 
life unconsciously touches those of the four greatest and 
supposedly happiest souls in her native Asolo, can Brown- 
ing hold himself quite aloof from his creation ; but if he is 
not quite the perfect dramatist, forgetting himself in the 
beings he has made, he is at least the subtle interpreter of 
life and the soul. 

Alfred Tennyson, the son of a cultured country clergy- 
man, was born in 1809, at Somersby, in Lincolnshire. All 
his surroundings tended to develop in him the ^^^^^ 
love for nature, the spirit of conservatism, and Tennyson 
the refined culture which were so strongly marked in his 
character. His poetical career began while he was a mem- 
ber of Trinity College, Cambridge, and here, too, he formed 
some of the great friendships of his life. Closest of all 
to his heart was Arthur Henry Hallam, with whom he 
was a member of a famous group known as " the twelve 
apostles." Hallam's death in 1833 plunged him into pro- 
found sorrow, and led to the writing of his great master- 
piece, In Memoriam. This poem was published in 1850, 
and the same year is marked by his marriage and by his 
appointment as poet-laureate. Tennyson's long life was 
lived in poetic seclusion. This was due partly to his tem- 
perament and partly to his conviction that the poet should 
watch the spectacle of life from his calm height with sym- 
pathetic interest, but should not engage in its activities. 
Until his death in 1892, he wrought out calmly and strongly 
his self-appointed tasks, unswerved by praise or blame. 
Fame came to him in ample measure, but better than fame 
was his ever widening influence for good in literature and 
in life. His elevation to the peerage, in 1884, with the title 
of Baron of Aldworth and Farringford, was a recognition 
of his unique place among the poets of his generation. 



398 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

Tennyson, if not absolutely the greatest, was at least 
the most representative poet of his age. He was sensitive 
Tennyson ^^ ^^^ ^^^ influences, reflected all its movements, 
and his Age ^^d felt a poet's Sympathy with the various 
phases of its life. He may be said to have walked shoulder 
to shoulder with his time, in the first rank, but hardly a 
step before or a step behind. His art recognized and ac- 
cepted the scientific method, and not a httle of his noblest 
imagery and of his deepest thought was drawn from scien- 
tific sources. Above all, he accepted the scientific doc- 
trine of evolution, and helped to reconcile that doctrine 
with spiritual faith. He felt and voiced the prevailing 
doubt and sadness of his generation. The struggle in his 
soul was long and bitter. His nature would not allow him 
the easy victory and the confident faith of Browning, but 
neither was he left to the cold and stoical resignation of 
Arnold. He was able at last to say : 

Not in vain, 



The problems most interesting to him were those which 
concern the development and destiny of mankind. His 
poetry expresses the abiding faith of man, unconquerable 
by temporary doubts and fears. Tennyson was also in 
sympathy with what is best in modern democracy, al- 
though he felt its dangers and shrank from its excesses. 
His artistic sympathy is displayed in his various portrayals 
of lowly characters and humble life, from Enoch Arden 
to The Northern Farmer^ The democratic sympathy of the 
man is equally apparent. He loved England because it is 

The land, where girt with friends or foes 
A man may speak the thing he will ; . . . 

Where Freedom slowly broadens down 
From precedent to precedent. 

''The red fool-fury of the Seine," "the blind hysterics of 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 399 

the Celt," was repellent to his nature. The freedom that 
he loved was a democratic freedom ; but it was " freedom 
in her regal seat of England," freedom regulated by law. 
In still other ways, he was thoroughly representative both 
of his age and his country. He was typical of the culture, 
the refinement, and the intellectual freedom of his time. 
His patriotism, his conservatism, his love of liberty, were 
in harmony with the underlying sentiment of the England 
of Victoria. More than any other EngHsh poet, he had 
an instinctive perception of the essential character of the 
age. More than any other, he was fitted to express its 
manifold life and thought. 

Tennyson's poetic genius may best be defined and illus- 
trated by comparison with that of Browning. They stand 
at opposite poles of poetry and of hfe. If we 
should attempt to condense this contrast into and Brown- 
briefest terms, we might characterize the two as 
respectively artist and thinker. These words do not tell 
us everything ; but they suggest what is central in each. 
Browning has much of the artist's temperament and skill ; 
but above all other things, he is a thinker expressing truth 
in imaginative forms. Tennyson is gifted with a master's 
strength and fineness of thought; but he is preeminently 
an artist in language. This fundamental difference be- 
tween the two men appears at every point and manifests 
itself in a great variety of ways. 

Tennyson was essentially a poetic artist. This means, 
first of all, that he was endowed with that exquisite sense 
of beauty which lies at the very heart of the sense of 
poet's nature. With his own Lotos-Eatei^s, he ^^auty 
can feel the seductive charm of that enchanted land 

In which it seemed ahvays afternoon. 
He confesses to us that he is one 

Whose spirits falter in the mist, 

And languish for the purple seas. 



400 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

Yet this sense of beauty in him is exalted by the spirit of 
an intense and lofty ideality. He is thrilled by the beauty 
of that immortal courage which sent the Light Brigade 
" into the mouth of Hell " at Balaklava. He feels through 
all his soul the beauty of Arthur's royal manhood and of 
Galahad's stainless chivalry. He adds a whiteness to the 
virgin snow in his picture of St. Agnes, the bride of 
Christ, who cries : 

Break up the heavens, O Lord ! and far, 

Thro' all yon starlight keen, 
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, 

In raiment white and clean. 

Tennyson possessed also in fulness of measure that 
other essential gift of the poet — imagination. The clear- 
ness and picturesqueness of his conceptions is 

Imagination -i j . rj-., i • i ,1 

beyond praise. They are as lucid as the morn- 
ing, as distinct and vivid as noonday shadows. Yet withal, 
this imagination can carry us out into the realms of spirit- 
ual suggestion which lie beyond all earthly images. What 
could be at once more powerful, more vivid, and more 
suggestive than such words as these : 

A still salt pool, locked in with bars of sand ; 

Left on the shore ; that hears all night 
The plunging seas draw backward from the land 

Their moon-led waters white. 

He possessed also that breadth of imagination which some 
have been inclined to deny him. Surely there is range 
between The Miller s Daughter and The Lady of Shalott, 
between Enoch Arden and The Idylls of the King. 

It has been sometimes said that he is lacking in the 
poet's passion. Yet surely this, too, is a mistake. He 
has not the vehement emotion of a Byron or a 
Emotion Burns ; his is rather the full, deep stream of 
Wordsworth which flows with none the less power because 
it is broad and still. That he is a master of pathos, who 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 401 

can doubt that has read Guinevere or Enoch Arden or In 
Memoriam ? That he is full of manly vigor and of patri- 
otic fervor, we may feel in his war-songs, in the Ode on 
the Death of the Dicke of Wellington^ and in his ballad of 
The Revenge. That he can portray the passion of love, is 
manifest beyond all question in The Princess and Maud. 
The latter rises even to that vehement intensity so im- 
pressive to the common mind. Its opening line strikes 
the passion note of the poem : 

I hate the dreadful hollow behind the little woodo 

Still other and stranger notes are struck in such poems as 
The Two Voices and Rizpah. Yes, he is a poet whose pas- 
sion has fulness, depth, range, and at times intensity. What 
to some critics seems like a limitation, but what to the 
great sound heart of humanity will always seem a part of 
his highest glory, is the fact that the whole strength of his 
emotion is directed toward the good and true and against the 
false and base. Poetry to him was no mere toy or luxury, 
but one of the great forces of life. It has its immortal de- 
light, but it has also its eternal duty. Both sides of his 
conception appear in his own description of the poet's 
character and mission : 

The poet in a golden clime was born, 

With golden stars above ; 
Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, 

The love of love. 

It is difficult to speak in measured terms of Tennyson as 
a master of form. In nearly all his work there is a most 
exquisite perception of the harmony between thought and 
language. He had a wonderful ear for the 

r 1 r -I r . . Perfect Art 

music of verse, a wonderful eye for artistic 
effects of form and color. Hardly any poet is his supe- 
rior in ease and versatility of style. Not alone in details 
was he a perfect master of his art ; he possessed also that 



402 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

fine sense of unity and proportion which can build up 
great and elaborate masterpieces. Tennyson was a poet 
born ; but he was also a poet made. No man ever set him- 
self more deliberately and persistently to self-culture in the 
technique of poetic art. He made himself so perfect a 
craftsman that, when his passion began to grow and his 
experience of life to deepen, he uttered his thought and 
his emotion with the voice of a trained singer. So flawless 
is his work, even when he is most profoundly stirred, that 
in any other man such perfection would have savored of 
affectation and insincerity. The evidences of this perfect 
art are everywhere in his poetry — almost in every line 
that he has written. Whoxan forget the enchanted music 
of The Lady of Shalott or the luxurious cadences of The 
Lotos-Eaters ? The songs of 77ie Princess ring in our ears 
with echoes as from 

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing. 
Now it is the song of The Brook : 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, ' 

Among my skimming swallows ; 

I make the netted sunbeam dance 
Against my sandy shallows. 

I murmur under moon and stars 
In br^mbly wildernesses ; 

I linger by my shingly bars ; 
I loiter round my cresses. 

Now it is the sublime lamentation for Wellington : 
Bury the Great Duke 

With an empire's lamentation, 
Let us bury the Great Duke 

To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation. 

Now it is the melodious cry of Ln Memoriam ; and now 
the description of that "last weird battle in the west" 
where Arthur falls with all his chivalry : 

So all day long the noise of battle rolled 

Among the mountains by the winter sea. 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 403 

The Idylls of the King remind us that Tennyson was a 
romantic poet ; but he was not forgetful of real life, as we 
may see in Dora and The Miller's Daughter and Range of 
in many another poem. We are reminded also ^^^^^ 
that his genius was largely idyllic — that it delighted in 
the purely picturesque. His lyric poetry is not less perfect; 
and it is perhaps in some of his shorter lyrics that we find the 
distilled essence of his poetic genius. In the drama he dis- 
plays great powers and great limitations. We may be sure 
that his best work does not lie there ; for neither he nor his 
age possessed in large measure the dramatic spirit. If he had 
given us only his dramas, we might cherish them as among 
our dearest treasures ; but he has elsewhere given us what 
is better still. Tennyson's poetic interest was divided be- 
tween nature and humanity. He was not exclusively the 
poet of one or the other. What is more typical of him is 
that he was everywhere the poet of culture and morality. 
No poetry is more truly refined ; no poetry makes more 
for essential righteousness. And what a devotion to his 
art and to all that it implies. He takes himself seriously as 
a poet, if ever a man did ; he lives the part to perfection. 
We shall not easily discoyer him "without his singing 
robes and garland on." He dies with his finger between 
the pages of Shakespeare's Cymbe line 2X th.Q ^ong ending 
with words that might have been his own epitaph : 

Quiet consummation have ; 
And renowned be thy grave ! 

Much of Tennyson's poetry stands simply for his en- 
thusiastic interest in his poetic art and illustrates his con- 
ception of the significance of that art. Many His Art 
of his earliest poems are simply exquisitely Poetry 
beautiful poetical exercises, without other significance than 
their melody and sensuous charm. Others, like The Poet 
and The Poet's Mind, show his sense of the poet's place 



404 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

and mission. The Lady of Shalott symbolizes allegorically 
the artist's aloofness from the world, taking no part in its 
activities, but reflecting it with loving sympathy in the 
magic mirror of the imagination and weaving the vision 
into the magic web of poetry. The Palace of Art shows 
the curse that falls on the beauty-loving soul that cuts 
itself off utterly from its kind and shuts itself up to its 
own selfish enjoyment. Such poems are symbolical of 
one side of Tennyson's nature. Their spirit does not die 
out of his poetry, even to the end, but his genius becomes 
ever deeper and broader. 

Somewhat akin to such works as these, at least in their 
inspiration, are his poems on classical themes — finely 
Broadening conccived and wonderfully executed specimens 
Range of poctic workmanship. (E?ione, The Lotos- 

Eaters^ Lticretiiis, TitJwniis, are all admirable in their 
diverse ways ; but his masterpiece in this kind is Ulysses. 
Chaste in style, felicitous in expression, noble in concep- 
tion, it takes rank among his most perfect works. Strongly 
contrasted with this classical taste, and serving to illustrate 
the poet's increasing breadth, are his poems dealing with 
common English life. Among the earliest of these are 
The Miller's Daughter and Dora. The finest example of 
all is his famous and popular Enoch Arden. Later came 
his interesting dialect studies, like The Northerjt Fanner 
and The Northern Cobbler. These indicate an interest in 
common life and also a patriotic spirit which is still further 
illustrated by specifically patriotic poems like The Charge 
of the Light Brigade^ The Revenge, and the Ode on the 
Death of the Duke of Wellington. Other phases of his 
genius must be illustrated by some of his longer poems 
and by the poems written toward the close of his life. 

The Princess is a fanciful poem which Tennyson properly 
called a medley. It deals with the modern woman ques- 
tion under the guise of a fantastic story about the found- 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 405 

ing of a woman's college and the breaking up of the scheme 
through certain love intrigues. The poem is not The Princess 
altogether a successful achievement, although ^^^'^^^^ 
it is filled with beautiful music and imagery and inter- 
spersed with some of his most exquisite lyrics. It is 
interesting as showing Tennyson's growing disposition 
to consider the serious problems of his time. Somewhat 
the same may be said of Maud, one of the most peculiar 
of his poems. It is a poem of passionate love, madness, 
and despair, gloomy but splendid. Its finer quality is 
marred by a tone of almost pessimistic satire against the 
baser spirit of the age. 

In Memo7da7}i is a great elegy, inspired by the early 
death of Tennyson's intimate and beloved friend Arthur 
Hallam. Simply in its character as an elegy, 
it is a marvelous poem, passionate with a heart- ^° emonam 
breaking sorrow, and rich with all the powers of expression 
of a great poet. It is vastly more, however, than a simple 
elegy ; it is the great poetic record of Tennyson's spiritual 
struggle with the demons of doubt and despair. Through a 
long series of lyrics bound together by their association 
with the one central theme, we may trace the various phases 
of the poet's personal grief and witness his grapple with 
the sternest problems of human existence. The real 
theme of the poem is the immortality of the soul ; and the 
poet's final victory is based on the passionate conviction 
that such a love as his is and must be immortal. If the 
pure reason can give him no satisfaction, he hears at least 
the answer of the heart. 

If e'er when faith had faH'n asleep, 

I heard a voice " believe no more " 
And heard an ever-breaking shore 

That tumbled in the Godless deep ; 

A warmth within the breast would melt 
The freezing reason's colder part, 



406 DEMOCRACY AND SCIENCE (1832-1892) 

And like a man in wrath the heart 
Stood up and answer'd " I have felt." 

He concludes his " high argument " with an expression of 
faith in 

That God, which ever lives and loves, 
One God, one law, one element. 
And one far-off divine event. 
To which the whole creation moves. 

In the Idylls of the King, Tennyson deals as a true ro- 
mantic poet, with the great matter of the Arthurian legends, 
Idylls of the ^^ oftcu handled in English literature, but 
King never more beautifully than here. The " Idylls " 

are a series of twelve picturesque narratives, written in- 
dependently at different times in Tennyson's career and 
later combined into a single great work. In his hands, the 
old mediaeval legends are modernized into a great spiritual 
parable. We see Arthur, the noble guide and leader of 
men, coming to his kingdom ; we see that kingdom grow- 
ing in beauty and power under his mild and wise sway ; we 
see everything brought to moral ruin by the sin of Lance- 
lot and Guinevere ; we see Arthur finally overthrown in his 
" last weird battle in the west " and passing to his place 
among the dead. It is the failure of spiritual dominion in 
a world too gross for such high ideals. The meaning of 
the great and beautiful poem cannot be better expressed 
than in Tennyson's own words, when he calls it 

This old imperfect tale, 
New-old, and shadowing Sense at war with Soul. 

In his later life, Tennyson, while never ceasing to be the 

true and finished artist, showed a disposition to draw still 

closer to real life and to its profounder problems. 

Latest Work ^^ , . , ^ , . . . . 

He wrote his great dramas, beginning with 
Queen Mary, and including such noble works as Harold 
and Becket. While they were not altogether successful as 
acting plays, they are finely poetical and show genuine 



THE AGE OF TENNYSON — POETRY (1832-1892) 407 

insight into life and character. Some of his later poems 
are rather gloomy in tone, impressing us with a sense of 
failure and disillusion concerning the great movements of 
the age and concerning human progress. Yet toward the 
last comes a high and serene mood of faith in that supreme 
power which is guiding **the whole creation" toward the 
" one far-off divine event," and which holds all individual 
souls in the hollow of his hand. In The Making of Man y 
he says : 

Man as yet is being made, and ere the crowning Age of ages, 
Shall not aeon after aeon pass and touch him into shape ? 

In Faith, he cries : 

Doubt no longer that the Highest is the wisest and the best. 

In The Silent Voices, he sings : 

Call me rather, silent voices, 
Forward to the starry track 
Glimmering up the heights beyond me 
On, and always on ! 

Crossing the Bar, one of the most beautiful poems that 
he ever wrote, closes with this splendid expression of 
personal faith and courage : 

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place 

The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have crost the bar. 

Such words are fitting close to the brief record of a 
great career, of a great century, and of a great literature. 



APPENDIX 



410 



CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE OF 



o 

Ph 




Ecclesiastical History (in Latin) 


Translations of Gregory, Bede, 

Boethius, and Orosius 
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. See text, 

pp. 29, 30 and 33, 34 
Blickhng Homilies (c. 971) 
Hornilies, Lives of the Saints, etc. 
Homilies 

Apollonius of Tyre 
Later Chronicle (to 1 154) 


i 

g 


Charms (portions) 

WidsiS 

Lament of Deor 

Fight at Finnsburg 

Waldhere 

Beowulf 


Hymn, etc. See text, pp. 16-19 

Csedmonian Paraphrase 

Death Song 

Judith, etc. 

Ruthwell Cross inscription 

Elegies. See text, p. 21 

Elene, etc. See text, pp. 22, 23 

Andreas, The Phoenix, Dream of the 

Rood, etc. 
Other poems in Exeter and Vercelli 

Books 


X, On 

H 
11 



II 


O 
H 

<: 




Caedmon c 670-680 
Bede 672-735 

Cynewulf c 750-C.800 


Alfred 848-901 

-^Ifric c. 955-c. 1025 
Wulfstan d. 1023 




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ENGLISH LITERATURE 



411 



1^ 


Ph 


Later A. S. Chronicle (ends 1154) 

Homilies and Lives of the Saints 
Ancren Riwle (c. 1225; 

Religious vi^ritings 
Ayenbite of Inwit 

Mandeville's Travels 




i 

<t-i 


.2 

S 


1-1 

< 

<U 






Poema Morale (before 1200) 

Brut (c. 1205) 

Ormulum (c. 121 5) 

Genesis and Exodus Bestiary 

Owl and Nightingale Lyric Poems 

Sir Tristrem, Havelok the Dane, King 

Horn, etc. 
Chronicle (c. 1298) 
Cycles of Romance 

Bevis of Hampton, Guy of Warwick, etc. 
Handlynge Synne (1303) 
Cursor Mundi (c. 1325) 
Pricke of Conscience (c. 1335) 

Political Lyrics (i 333-1 352) 

Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight 

The Pearl, Cleanness, Patience 


Vision of Piers the Plowman 
Confessio Amantis, etc. 
Canterbury Tales, etc. 


Gouvernail of Princes, etc. 

Falles of Princes, etc. 

The King's Quair 

Fables, etc. 

Thistle and the Rose, etc. 

Palice of Honour, ^neid, etc. 

Ballads 

Mysteries, Miracle Plays, Moralities 


g 

H 


Layamon 
Orm 

Robert of Gloucester 

Robert Manning 

Richard RoUe 
Dan Michel 
Laurence Minot 


John Wyclif 1 324-1 384 
Wm. Langland c. 1332-c. 1400 
John Gower c. 1 330-1408 
Geoffrey Chaucer c. 1 340-1400 


Thomas Occleve c 1365-c. 1454 

John Lydgate c. 1370-c. 1440 

James I of Scotland 1 394-1437 

Robert Henryson 

William Dunbar 

Gawain Douglas c. 1474-c. 1522 

Sir Thomas Malory 




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412 



CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE OF 



s 



< 
< 


Moralities, Interludes 
Magnyfycence 

Satire of the Three Estates 
The Four Fs, etc. 
Ralph Roister Doister 

Gorboduc (1561) 
Gammer Gurton's Needle 
(1566) 


Endymion, etc. 

Marius and Sylla 
David and Bethsabe 
Friar Bacon and Friar 

Bungay 
Faustus, Jew of Malta, etc. 

Dramas 

The Alchemist, Masques 

Philaster, etc. 


W 
in 
O 

Pi 

Ph 


Utopia (Latin), etc. 
Bible Translation 

Sermons 

Prayer Book (1547-1553) 
The Schoolmaster 

Chronicles and Discoveries 

Translations 

Religious Writings 


Arcadia, Defense of Poesy 

Euphues, etc. 
Ecclesiastical Polity 
Rosalind 

Timber 


2 


Bowge of Court, etc. 

The Dreme, etc. 

Songs and Sonnets, Satires 
Songs and Sonnets, Virgil 
Tottel's Miscellany (1557) 

The Steele Glas 
Mirror for Magistrates 
Elizabethan Miscellanies 
Translations 


x'\strophel and Stella 
Faerie Queene, etc. 
Songs 

Phillis, Lyrics 

Hero and Leander, etc. 
The Civil Wars, etc. 
Polyolbion, etc. 
Poems and Sonnets 
Poems 


C/2 

Pi 
O 

H 

< 


John Skelton c. 1460-1529 
Thomas More 1478-1535 
Wm. Tyndale c. 1484-1536 
Miles Coverdale 1488-1568 
David Lyndesay c 1490-1555 
ohn Hey wood c. 1500-1565 
' Nicholas Udall 1 506- 1 5 64 
Hugh Latimer i49^-^S5S 
Thomas Wyatt 1503-1542 
Henry Howard c. 1517-1547 

Roger Ascham 1 5 1 5- 1 568 
George Gascoigne 1525-1577 
Thomas Sackville 1536-1608 


Philip Sidney 1554-1586 
Edmund Spenser 155 2-1 599 
John Lyly 1553-1600 
Richard Hooker 1 5 5 4- 1 600 
Thomas Lodge 1558-1625 
George Peele c. 1558-1598 
Robert Greene c 1560-1592 

Christ. Marlowe 1564-1593 
Samuel Daniel 1562-161,9 
Michael Drayton c. 1563-1631 
Wm. Shakespeare 1564-1616 
Ben Jonson i 573-1637 
Beaumont c. 1585-161 3 
and Fletcher 1579-1625 




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ENGLISH LITERATURE 



413 



Bussy d'Ambois, etc. 
The Malcontent, etc. 
Old Fortunatus, etc. 
A Woman Killed with 

Kindness, etc. 
The Changeling, etc. 
Duchess of Malfi, etc. 


A New Way to Pay Old 

Debts, etc. 
The Broken Heart, etc. 

Aglaura 

Comus, Samson Agonistes 


History of the World, etc. 
Essays, etc. 

Anatomy of Melancholy 
" Authorized Version" of 
Bible 


Holy Living, etc. 
Worthies of England, etc. 
Religio Medici, etc. 
Essays 

Areopagitica, etc. 
Complete Angler, etc. 


Poems, Homer 
Satires 

Poems 

Poems and Satires 

Britannia's Pastorals, etc. 
Shepherd's Hunting, etc. 
Poems and Sonnets 


The Temple, etc. 

Poems 

Poems 

Poems 

Poems 

Hesperides, etc. 

Poems 

Paradise Lost, etc. 

Poems 
Poems 


Geo. Chapman c. 155 7-1 634 
John Marston c. 1 575-1634 
Thos. Dekker c. 1570-c. 1641 
Thos. Heywoodc. 1581-c. 1640 

Thos. Middleton 15 70- 1627 
John Webster ? - ? 
Walter Raleigh 1 5 5 2- 1 6 1 8 
John Donne 1573-1631 
Francis Bacon 1 561-1626 
Wm. Browne 1 590-1 645 
George Wither 1588- 1667 
Wm. Drummond 1585- 1649 
Robert Burton 15 76- 1640 


Philip Massinger 1 584-1 640 

John Ford 1586-c. 1640 
George Herbert 1593-1633 
Thomas Carew 1598- 1639 
John Suckling 1 609-1 641 
' Richard Crashaw c. 161 3-1 650 
Richard Lovelace 16 18-1658 
Robert Herrick 1591-1674 
Jeremy Taylor 1613-1667 
Thomas Fuller 1 608-1 661 
Thomas Browne 1 605-1 682 
Abraham Cowley 161 8-1 667 
John Milton 1 608-1 674 
Izaak Walton 1 593- 1 683 
Henry Vaughan 1622- 1695 
Edmund Waller 1605- 1687 


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414 



CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE OF 



i 

Q 

< 
< 


All for Love, etc. 
Venice Preserved, etc. 
The Plain-Dealer, etc. 
The Confederacy, etc. 
Love for Love, etc. 
The Beaux' Stratagem, etc. 


Cato, etc. 

The Conscious Lovers, etc. 


Pamela, etc. 
Tom Jones, etc. 

Tristram Shandy 
Humphrey Clinker, etc. 
Vicar of Wakefield 
Rasselas 

School for Scandal, etc. 


W 
CO 
O 

Ph 


Pilgrim's Progress, etc. 

Essays 
Essays 


Gulliver's Travels, etc. 
Periodical Essays 
Periodical Essays 
Robinson Crusoe, etc. 


Joiirnals, Letters, etc. 

Sentimental Journey, etc. 

Essays, etc. 

Lives of the Poets, etc. 
History of England, etc. 
Roman Empire, etc. 
Speeches, etc. 


H 

2 


Poems and Satires 
Hudibras 

Satires, Lyrics, etc. 


Poems 

The Campaign, etc. 

Poems 
Poems 
Satires, Poems 


The Seasons, etc. 
Night Thoughts 

Poems 

Elegy, Odes, etc. 

Poems, etc. 

Deserted Village, etc. 
Vanity of Human Wishes, 
[etc. 


(7) 
Pi 

o 

K 
H 

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John Bunyan ] 
Andrew Marvell ] 
Samuel Butler 
Wm. Temple i 
John Dryden i 
Thomas Otway 
Wm. Wycherley 
John Vanbrugh c. 
Wm. Congreve 
Geo. Farquhar 


Jonathan Swift ] 
Joseph Addison i 
Richard Steele 
Daniel Defoe i 
Matthew Piior ] 
John Gay 
Alexander Pope 


James Thomson ] 
Edward Young 
Sam. Richardson i 
Henry Fielding i 
Wm. Collins 
Thomas Gray 
Thos. Chatterton 
Laurence Sterne ] 
Tobias Smollett ] 
Oliver Goldsmith 
Samuel Johnson i 
David Hume ] 
Edward Gibbon i 
Edmund Burke \ 
R. B. Sheridan i 




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ENGLISH LITERATURE 



415 



(4 
> 


w 

w 


Cecilia, etc. 

Vathek 

Mysteries of Udolpho, etc. 
Caleb Williams, etc. 
The Monk, etc. 


d 




Letters 

Letters 
Political Justice 


Prefaces, etc. 
Biographia Literaria, etc. 
Life of Napoleon, etc. 

Life of Nelson, etc. 

Essays of Elia, etc. 

Life of Byron, etc. 

Essays, Letters, etc. 

Letters 

Essays 

Imaginary Conversations, 

Opium-Eater, etc. [etc. 

Lectures, Essays, etc. 

Essays, etc. 

Edinburgh Review 

Noctes Ambrosianse, etc. 

Life of Scott, etc. 


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The Village, etc. 

Poems 
Poems 


Intimations of Immortality, 
Ancient Mariner, etc. [etc. 
Marmion, etc. 

Thalaba, etc. 

Poems 

Poems 

Childe Harold, etc. 

Pleasures of Hope, etc. 

Irish Melodies, etc. 

Prometheus Unbound, etc. 

Eve of St. Agnes, etc. 

Poems 

Hellenics, etc. 

Virginius, etc. 
English Songs, etc. 





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S. T. Coleridge 
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P. B. Shelley i 
John Keats 
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READING AND STUDY LIST 

HISTORY 

Gardiner's Student's History of England. 

Terry's History of England. 

Green's Short History of the English People. 

Green's History of the English People (four volumes). 

Traill's Social England. 

Lord's Beacon Lights of History. 

Green's Making of England. 

Green's Conquest of England, j 

Rhys's Celtic Britain. 

Grant Allen's Anglo-Saxon Britain. 

York-Powell's Early England to the Norman Conquest. 

Freeman's Old English History. 

Freeman's Norman Conquest. 

Jevvett's Story of the Normans. 

Stubbs's Early Plantagenets. 

Hutton's King and Baronage. 

Warburton's Edward the Third. 

Jusserand's English Wayfaring Life in the Fourteenth Century. 

Gairdner's Houses of Lancaster and York. 

Moberly's Early Tudors. 

Creighton's Tudors and the Reformation. 

Creighton's Age of Elizabeth. 

Gardiner's The First Two Stuarts and the Puritan Revolution. 

Seebohm's Era of the Protestant Revolution. 

Airy's English Restoration and Louis XIV. 

Hale's Fall of the Stuarts. 

Macaulay's History of England (from accession of James H to death of 

William HI). 
Lecky's History of England in the Eighteenth Century. 
Stephen's History of English Thought in the Eighteenth Century. 
Morris's Age of Anne. 
Morris's Early Hanoverians. 
Wright's England under the House of Hanover. 
Thackeray's The Four Georges. 
Paul's History of Modern England. 
McCarthy's History of the People of England in the Nineteenth Century. 

417 



4l8 READING AND STUDY LIST 

McCarthy's Epoch of Reform (i 830-1 850). 
McCarthy's History of Our Own Times. 

LANGUAGE 

Lounsbury's English Language. 

Emerson's Brief History of the English Language. 

Greenough and Kittredge's Words and Their Ways in English Speech. 

Bradley's Making of English. 

LITERATURE 

General. 

Saintsbury's Short History of EngHsh Literature. 

Garnett and Gosse's English Literature : An Illustrated Record (four 

volumes). 
Taine's History of English Literature. 
Welsh's Development of English Literature. 
Phillips's History of English Literature. 
Mitchell's English Lands, Letters, and Kings. 
Ryland's Chronological Outlines of English Literature. 
MacLean's Chart of English Literature. 
Chambers's Cyclopaedia of English Literature. 
Moulton's Library of Literary Criticism. 
Brewer's Reader's Handbook. 

Periods and Departments. 

Brooke's History of Early English Literature. 

Brooke's English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman Conquest. 
Schofield's English Literature from the Norman Conquest to Chaucer. 
Ten Brink's History of English Literature (to the death of Surrey). 
Jusserand's Literary History of the English People from the Origins to 

the Renaissance. 
Morley's English Writers (eleven volumes — to seventeenth century). 
Courthope's History of English Poetry. 
Gummere's Old English Ballads. 
Ward's History of English Dramatic Literature to the Death of Queen 

Anne (new edition, 1899). 
Brander Matthews's Development of the Drama. 
Snell's The Fourteenth Century (Periods of European Literature). 
Snell's Age of Chaucer. 
Minto's Manual of English Prose Literature. 
Minto's Characteristics of English Poets. 
Beers's From Chaucer to Tennyson. 
Millar's Literary History of Scotland. 
Snell's Age of Transition (1400-1580). 



READING AND STUDY LIST 419 

Periods and Departments — Continued. 

Smith's The Transition Period (Periods of European Literature). 

Bates's English Religious Drama. 

Einstein's Italian Renaissance in England. 

Hannay's Later Renaissance (Periods of European Literature). 

Sidney Lee's Great Englishmen of the Sixteenth Century. 

Saintsbury's Elizabethan Literature (i 560-1 660). 

Hazlitt's Literature of the Age of Elizabeth. 

Whipple's Literature of the Age of Elizabeth. 

Cunliffe's Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy. 

Schelling's English Chronicle Play. 

Schelling's Elizabethan Lyrics. 

Symonds's Shakespeare's Predecessors in the English Drama. 

Boas's Shakspere and His Predecessors. 

Seccombe and Allen's Age of Shakespeare. 

Lowell's Old English Dramatists. 

Fleay's Chronicle History of the London Stage. 

Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Poets. 

Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Comic Writers. 

Warren's The Novel Previous to the Seventeenth Century. 

Jusserand's English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare. 

Gosse's From Shakespeare to Pope. 

Gosse's Jacobean Poets. 

Gosse's Seventeenth Century Studies. 

Wendell's The Temper of Seventeenth Century Literature. 

Masterman's Age of Milton. 

Dowden's Puritan and Anglican. 

Garnett's Age of Dryden. 

Chase's The English Heroic Play. 

Macaulay's Essay on the Comic Dramatists of the Restoration. 

Gosse's Eighteenth Century Literature ( 1 660-1 780). 

Perry's English Literature in the Eighteenth Century. 

Dennis's Age of Pope. 

Thackeray's English Humorists. 

Dunlop's History of Fiction. 

Tuckerman's History of Prose Fiction. 

Simonds's Introduction to Prose Fiction. 

Stoddard's Evolution of the English Novel. 

Cross's Development of the English Novel. 

Lanier's The English Novel. 

Raleigh's The English Novel. 

Masson's British Novehsts and Their Styles. 

Forsyth's Novels and Novelists of the Eighteenth Century. 

Minto's Literature of the Georgian Era. 



420 READING AND STUDY LIST 

Periods and Departments — Continued. 
Seccombe's Age of Johnson. 

Phelps's Beginnings of the English Romantic Movement. 
Beers's English Romanticism in the Eighteenth Century. 
Beers's English Romanticism in the Nineteenth Century. 
Mrs. Oliphant's Literary History of England in the End of the Eighteenth 

and Beginning of the Nineteenth Century. 
Saintsbury's Nineteenth Century Literature (i 780-1895). 
Dowden's French Revolution and English Literature. 
Dowden's Studies in Literature, 1 789-1 887. 
Woodberry's Makers of Literature. 
Shairp's Poetic Interpretation of Nature. 
Shairp's Aspects of Poetry. 
Herford's Age of Wordsworth. 
Dawson's Makers of Modern English. 

Jack's Essays on the Novel as Illustrated by Scott and Miss Austen. 
Forster's Great Teachers. 
Harrison's Early Victorian Literature. 
Morley's Literature in the Age of Victoria. 
Mrs. Oliphant's Victorian Age of English Literature. 
Walker's Age of Tennyson. 
Walker's Greater Victorian Poets. 
Stedman's Victorian Poets. 
Sharp's Victorian Poets. 
Brownell's Victorian Prose Masters. 

Bayne's Lessons from My Masters (Carlyle, Tennyson, Ruskin). 
Cooke's Poets and Problems (Tennyson, Ruskin, Browning). 
Hutton's Modern Guides of English Thought in Matters of Faith (Carlyle, 

Arnold, George Eliot). 
Forman's Our Living Poets. 
Brooke's Theology in the English Poets. 
Scudder's Life of the Spirit in the Modern English Poets. 
Scudder's Social Ideals in English Letters. 

Individual Authors and Works. 

Dictionary of National Biography. 

English Men of Letters Series — contains lives of Chaucer, Sidney, Spenser, 
Bacon, Jeremy Taylor, Milton, Bunyan, Marvell, Hobbes, Locke, Dryden, 
Bentley, Swift, Addison, Defoe, Pope, Richardson, Fielding, Gray, 
Sterne, Goldsmith, Johnson, Hume, Gibbon, Burke, Sheridan, Fanny 
Burney, Cowper, Crabbe, Burns, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott, Southey, 
Lamb, Byron, Moore, Shelley, Keats, Landor, De Quincey, Sydney 
Smith, Hazlitt, Macaulay, Carlyle, Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, 
Browning, Tennyson, Fitzgerald, Arnold, Ruskin, Rossetti. 



READING AND STUDY LIST 42 1 

Individual Authors and Works — Continued. 

Great Writers Series — contains lives of Milton, Bunyan, Congreve, Smol- 
lett, Goldsmith, Johnson, Adam Smith, Sheridan, Crabbe, Burns, Cole- 
ridge, Scott, Jane Austen, Byron, Shelley, Keats, Leigh Hunt, Charlotte 
Bronte, Marryat, Mill, Carlyle, Dickens, Thackeray, Darwin, George 
Eliot, Browning, Rossetti. 

De Quincey has essays on Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, Goldsmith, Coleridge, 
Wordsworth, Southey, Lamb, etc. (Literary and Lake Reminiscences, 
Biographies, etc.) 

Macaulay has essays on Bacon, Milton, Bunyan, Dryden, Temple, Addison, 
Goldsmith, Johnson, Boswell's Life of Johnson, Byron, Leigh Hunt, etc. 
(Essays). 

Carlyle has essays on Shakespeare, Johnson, Burns, and Scott (Heroes and 
Hero-Worship, Essays) . 

Lowell has essays on Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Walton, 
Dryden, Pope, Gray, Fielding, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats, Carlyle, 
Swinburne, etc. (My Study Windows, Among My Books, Literary 
Essays) . 

Leslie Stephen has essays on Shakespeare, Donne, Milton, Pope, Defoe, 
Richardson, Johnson, Gibbon, Godwin, Wordsworth, Scott, Southey, De 
Quincey, Trollope, Browning, Tennyson, Ruskin, Arnold, Stevenson, etc. 
(Hours in a Library, Studies of a Biographer). 

Swinburne has essays on Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Beaumont and 
Fletcher, Webster, Wither, Ford, Herrick, Milton, Congreve, William 
Collins, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott, Lamb, Byron, Shelley, Keats, 
Landor, Emily Bronte, Charles Reade, Tennyson, Arnold, Wilkie Collins, 
Rossetti, Morris, etc. (Miscellanies, Essays and Studies, Studies in 
Prose and Poetry). 

Bagehot's Literary Studies (Shakespeare, Milton, Sterne, Gibbon, Cowper, 
Wordsworth, Scott, Shelley, Macaulay, Dickens, Thackeray, Clough, 
Browning, Tennyson). 

Dowden's Transcripts and Studies (I^Iarlowe, Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, 
Wordsworth, Shelley, Carlyle, Browning, Victorian Literature). 

Pater's Appreciations (Shakespeare, Thomas Browne, Wordsworth, Cole- 
ridge, Lamb, Rossetti). 

Plummer's Life and Times of King Alfred the Great. 

Besant's Story of King Alfred. 

Le Bas's Life of John Wyclif. 

Sergeant's John Wyclif. 

Jusserand's Piers Plowman. 

Lounsbury's Studies in Chaucer. 

Saunders's Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. 

Hempl's Chaucer's Pronunciation. 

Jusserand's Romance of a King's Life (James I of Scotland). 



422 READING AND STUDY LIST 

Individual Authors and Works — Continued. 
Lovett's Demaus's Life of Tindale. 
Davis's Life and Times of Sir Philip Sydney. 
Bourne's Life of Sidney. 

Carpenter's Outline Guide to the Study of Spenser. 
Childs's John Lyly and Euphuism. 
Sidney Lee's Life of Shakespeare. 
Brandes's William Shakespeare. 
Victor Hugo's William Shakespeare. 

Wendell's William Shakspere, a Study in Elizabethan Literature 
Goldwin Smith's Shakespeare the Man. 
Mabie's William Shakespeare : Poet, Dramatist, and Man. 
Rolfe's Shakespeare the Boy. 

Emerson's Shakespeare, or the Poet (Representative Men). 
Dowden's Shakspere : His Mind and Art. 
Swinburne's A Study of Shakespeare. 
Lounsbury's Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. 
Moulton's Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. 
Moulton's Moral System of Shakespeare. 
Ulrici's Shakespeare's Dramatic Art. 
Gervinus's Shakespeare Commentaries. 
Hudson's Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare. 
Coleridge's Notes and Lectures on the Plays of Shakespeare. 
White's Studies in Shakespeare. 
Collins's Studies in Shakespeare. 
Bradley's Shakespearean Tragedy. 
Brooke's On Ten Plays of Shakespeare. 
Ten Brink's Five Lectures on Shakespeare. 
Hazlitt's Characters of Shakespeare's Plays. 
Mrs. Jameson's Characteristics of Women. 
Mary Cowden Clarke's Girlhood of Shakespeare's Heroines. 
Corson's Introduction to Shakespeare. 
Dowden's Introduction to Shakspere. 
Gollancz's Shakespearean Primer. 
Stone's Shakespeare's Holinshed. 
Dowden's Shakspere's Sonnets. 
Beeching's Sonnets of Shakespeare. 
Brown's Shakespeare's Versification. 
Bartlett's Shakespeare Concordance. 
Clarke's Concordance to Shakespear 
Abbott's Shakespearean Grammar. 
Swinburne's Study of Ben Jonson. 
Symonds's Ben Jonson. 
Schelling's Ben Jonson and the Classical School. 



READING AND STUDY LIST 423 

Individual Authors and Works — Continued. 
Swinburne's Chapman : A Critical Study. 
Gosse's Life of Raleigh. 
Edwards's Life of Raleigh. 
Gosse's Life and Letters of John Donne. 
Spedding's Francis Bacon and His Times. 
Nichol's Francis Bacon : His Life and Philosophy. 
Craik's Bacon : His Writings and His Philosophy. 
Abbott's Francis Bacon. 
Palmer's Life and Works of George Herbert. 
Heber's Life of Jeremy Taylor. 
Gosse's Life of Jeremy Taylor. 
Masson's Life and Times of Milton. 
Stopford Brooke's Milton. 
Raleigh's Life of Milton. 

Corson's Introduction to the Works of Milton. 
Brown's John Bunyan : His Life, Times, and Work. 
Whyte's Bunyan's Characters. 
Craik's Life of Swift, 
Collins's Life of Swift. 
Aitken's Life of Steele. 
Dobson's Life of Steele. 
Whitten's Life of Defoe. 
Wright's Life of Defoe. 
Courthope's Life of Pope. 
Bayne's Life of Thomson. 
Thomson's Life of Richardson. 
Wilson's Life of Chatterton. 

Masson's Essay on Chatterton (Essays, Biographical and Critical), 
Fitzgerald's Life of Sterne. 
Smeaton's Life of Smollett. 
Irving's Life of Goldsmith. 
Forster's Life of Goldsmith. 
Boswell's Life of Johnson. 
Waller's Boswell and Johnson. 
Gibbon's Autobiography. 
Rae's Life of Sheridan. 
Southey's Life of Cowper. 
Wright's Life of Cowper. 
Gilchrist's Life of Blake. 
Story's Life of Blake. 

Rossetti's Memoir of Blake (in Aldine Edition of his poems). 
Swinburne's William Blake : A Critical Study. 
Henley's Life of Burns. 



424 READING AND STUDY LIST 

Individual Authors and Works — Continued. 
Setoun's Life of Burns. 

Stevenson's Essay on Burns (Familiar Studies of Men and Books). 
Knight's Life of William Wordsworth. 
Arnold's Introduction to Selections from Wordsworth. 

Shairp's Studies in Poetry and Philosophy (Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keble). 
Masson's Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and Other Essays. 
Hutton's Essays in Literary Criticism (Wordsworth, Clough, George Eliot, 

Arnold). 
Lockhart's Life of Scott. 
Saintsbury's Life of Scott. 
Hudson's Life of Scott. 

Irving's Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey (Scott and Byron). 
Brandl's Samuel Taylor Coleridge and the English Romantic School. 
Adams's Life of Jane Austen. 
Pollock's Jane Austen. 
Pellew's Jane Austen's Novels. 
Bonnell's Charlotte Bronte, George Eliot, and Jane Austen : Studies in 

Their Works. 
Dennis's Life of Southey. 
Lucas's Life of Lamb. 

Fitzgerald's Life, Letters, and Writings of Charles Lamb. 
Moore's Life of Byron. 

Arnold's Introduction to Selections from Byron. 
Hadden's Life of Campbell. 
Symington's Life and Works of Moore. 
Dowden's Life of Shelley. 

Brooke's Introduction to Selections from Shelley. 
Browning's Essay on Shelley. 
Scudder's Shelley's Prometheus Unbound. 
Ellis's Shelley Concordance. 
De Quincey's Autobiography. 

DeQuincey's Confessions of an Opium-Eater (autobiographical). 
Trevelyan's Life and Letters of Macaulay. 
Mrs. Gaskell's Life of Charlotte Bronte. 

Gates's Essay on Charlotte Bronte (Studies and Appreciations). 
Life of Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton, by his Son. 
Froude's Thomas Carlyle. 
Mead's Philosophy of Carlyle. 

Zapp's Three Great Teachers of Our Time (Carlyle, Tennyson, Ruskin). 
Ingram's Life of Mrs. Browning. 
Whiting's Study of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
Gorst's Earl of Beaconsfield (B. Disraeli). 
Brandes's Lord Beaconsfield : A Study. 



READING AND STUDY LIST 425 

Individual Authors and Works — Continued. 
Hutton's Cardinal Newman. 

Jennings's Cardinal Newman : The Story of His Life. 
Newman's Apologia pro Vita Sua (autobiographical). 
Gates's Three Studies in Literature (Jeffrey, Newman, Arnold). 
Forster's Life of Charles Dickens. 
Gissing's Charles Dickens : A Critical Study. 
Melville's Life of Thackeray. 
Kaufman's Life of Kingsley. 

Charles Kingsley : His Letters, and Memories of His Life, by his Wife. 
Anthony Trollope's Autobiography. 

James's Partial Portraits (George Eliot, TroUope, Stevenson). 
Cross's Life of George Eliot. 
Blind's George Eliot. 

Cooke's George Eliot : A Critical Study of Her Life, Writings, and Phi- 
losophy. 
Brown's Ethics of George Eliot's Works. 
Myers's Essays, Modern (George Eliot, Rossetti). 
Orr's Life and Letters of Browning. 
Waugh's Life of Browning. 
Dowden's Robert Browning. 
Herford's Robert Browning. 
Brooke's Poetry of Robert Browning. 
Berdoe's Browning's Message to His Times. 
Revell's Browning's Criticism of Life. 

Jones's Browning as a Philosophical and Religious Teacher. 
Berdoe's Browning and the Christian Faith. 
Corson's Introduction to Browning. 
Symons's Introduction to Browning. 
Alexander's Introduction to Browning. 
Orr's Handbook to the Works of Robert Browning. 
Cooke's Browning Guide-Book. 
Berdoe's Browning Cyclopaedia. 

Anne Thackeray Ritchie's Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, and Browning. 
Hutton's Essays, Theological and Literary (Browning, Tennyson, Arnold). 
Alfred Tennyson : A Memoir, by his Son. 
Jennings's Life of Tennyson. 
Wace's Life of Tennyson. 
Horton's Life of Tennyson. 
Lang's Life of Tennyson. 

Waugh's Alfred, Lord Tennyson : A Study of His Life and Work. 
Rawnsley's Memories of the Tennysons. 
Brooke's Tennyson: His Art and Relation to Modern Life. 
Van Dyke's Poetry of Tennyson. 



426 READING AND STUDY LIST 

Individual Authors and Works — Contimied. 
Tainsh's A Study of Tennyson. 
Masterman's Tennyson as a Religious Teacher. 
Luce's Handbook to the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 
Dixon's Primer of Tennyson. 

Tennyson's In Memoriam, annotated by the author. 
Robertson's Analysis of Tennyson's In Memoriam. 
Genung's Tennyson's In Memoriam : Its Purpose and Structure. 
Littledale's Tennyson's Idylls of the King. 
Maccalum's Tennyson's Idylls of the King and Arthurian Story. 
Dawson's Study of Tennyson's Princess. 
Dawson's Matthew Arnold. 
Saintsbury's Matthew Arnold. 
Russell's Life of Matthew Arnold. 

Harrison's Tennyson, Ruskin, Mill, and Other Literary Estimates. 
Ruskin's Prseterita : Scenes of My Past Life. 
Collingwood's Life and Works of John Ruskin. 
Mrs. Meynell's John Ruskin. 
Mather's John Ruskin : His Life and Teachings. 
Waldstein's Work of John Ruskin : Its Influence upon Modern Thought 

and Life. 
Hobson's John Ruskin, Social Reformer. 
Scudder's Introduction to the Writings of John Ruskin. 
W. M. Rossetti's Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 
Sharp's D. G. Rossetti : A Record and Study. 
Gary's The Rossettis, Dante Gabriel and Christina. 
Gary's William Morris. 
Mackail's Life of Morris. 

Valance's William Morris : His Art, Writings, and Public Life. 
Balfour's Life of Stevenson. 
Black's Life of Stevenson. 
Japp's Robert Louis Stevenson. 
Gornford's Robert Louis Stevenson. 
Le Gallienne's George Meredith : Some Characteristics. 
Lynch's George Meredith; A Study. 
Wratislaw's A. C. Swinburne; A Study. 

Collections of Poetry and Prose. 

Warner's Library of the World's Best Literature. 

Morley's Library of English Literature (five volumes). 

Ward's English Poets (four volumes — with critical introductions — from 

Chaucer to Tennyson). 
Craik's English Prose (five volumes — with critical introductions — from 

Mandeville to Stevenson). 



READING AND STUDY LIST 427 

Collections of Poetry and Prose — Continued. 
Arber's British Anthologies (ten volumes of poetical selections — fifteenth 

to eighteenth century). 
Palgrave's Golden Treasury (lyric poetry). 
Whiteford's Anthology of English Poetry, Beowulf to Kipling. 
George's Chaucer to Arnold : Types of Literary Art (poetry and prose). 
Garnett's English Prose from Elizabeth to Victoria. 
Hales's Longer English Poems (from Spenser to Shelley). 
Pancoast's Standard English Poems, Spenser to Tennyson. 
Pancoast's Standard English Prose, Bacon to Stevenson. 
Syle's From Milton to Tennyson (poetry). 
Page's British Poets of the Nineteenth Century (full selections from fifteen 

chief poets). 
Stedman's Victorian Anthology (poetry). 

Admirable single-volume editions of the principal poets are to be found in 
the Globe Edition (The Macmillan Co.), the Cambridge Edition (Hough- 
ton, Mifflin & Co.), and the Oxford Poets (Clarendon Press). 

Critical annotated texts of a great variety of works are provided by many 
publishers. Among the most important series are the Belles Lettres Series 
(Heath & Co.), the Athenaeum Press Series (Ginn & Co.), and the Temple 
Editions (Dent). 



AIDS TO STUDY 

The student should make it perfectly clear to himself that the 
great matter of importance in the study of literature is a first-hand 
knowledge of the Hterary works themselves. These he should 
read, and make his own judgments upon them. Afterward he 
should seek to enlarge and correct those judgments by comparing 
them with the opinions of competent critics. This book does not 
aim to take the place of either the literature or the criticism, but 
rather to serve as the student's guide to both. 

English literature is vitally associated with English history. Nei- 
ther can be properly understood without the other. The hterary 
student should therefore obtain at least a general knowledge of 
historical events and conditions in each period from such works 
as those mentioned in the Reading and Study List. 

Chapter I. — Anglo-Saxon Pagan Poetry (449-670). 

The most important poem is Beowulf. At least the most strik- 
ing passages should be read, and the whole poem will be found 
interesting. Good translations are those of Earle, of Morris and 
Wyatt, of Child, and of Tinker, in prose, and those of Garnett and 
of Hall, in verse. Garnett's and Hall's editions also contain a 
translation of the Fight at Finnsburg. Widsid is translated in 
full in Morley's English Writers and in Gollancz's Exeter Book. 
The Lajnent of Deor is given in Brooke's Early English Litera- 
ture, For further selections, including passages from the Charms, 
see Brooke and Morley. 

Practically all of the poems mentioned in this and the next two 
sections are translated in Cook and Tinker's Translations froi7i Old 
English Poetry. It is the best single volume for the student, and 
contains nearly all that he is likely to need. 

Originals of practically the whole body of Anglo-Saxon poetry 
are to be found in the Wiilcker-Grein Bibliothek der Angelsach- 
sischen Poesie. There are also various separate editions of the 
more important poems. A knowledge of the language may be 

428 



AIDS TO STUDY 429 

obtained from such works as Bright's and Sweet's Anglo-Saxon 
Readers and Cook's First Book in Old English ; these also con- 
tain interesting texts. 

The history of this period is mainly concerned with the Anglo- 
Saxon invasion of Britain ; the gradual conquest of the larger por- 
tion of the island ; the extermination of the Britons or their retreat 
into Scotland, the Lake Region, Wales, Cornwall, and Ireland ; the 
settlement of the Anglo-Saxons in their new home ; the estabUsh- 
ment of a number of petty kingdoms ; the advent of Christianity 
and the struggle of paganism against the new religion. The char- 
acter and significance of these events should be learned from some 
standard history, together with the main facts concerning the pagan 
religious beliefs and the social life of the Anglo-Saxons. 

In what ways is this poetry affected by the religious conceptions 
and feeHngs of the race ? What traits of character and what ideals 
of life does this poetry reveal? What light does this poetry throw 
on the position of the scop and the conditions under which poetry 
was created ? Give an outline of the narrative of Beowulf. What 
qualities of substance or of style make Beowulf superior as Htera- 
ture to all other Anglo-Saxon poems? Explain the principles of 
alliteration and accent on which Anglo-Saxon metre is based, and 
note how Anglo-Saxon differs from modern Enghsh verse. 

Chapter II. — Anglo-Saxon Christian Poetry (670-871). 

Caedmon's Hynui is given in King Alfred's West-Saxon version 
in Mac Lean's Old and Middle English Reader and Bright's Atiglo- 
Saxon Reader. This version may be interestingly compared with 
the original Northumbrian form and the modern translation given 
in this book. Many of the best passages from the Caedmonian 
Paraphrase, from Cynewulf, and from the other poetry of this 
period, are translated in Morley and Brooke. Cook's Judith gives 
the complete original and translation of that interesting poem. 
The Wanderer, the Seafaj-er, and the Dream of the Rood are 
translated in Brooke, and the first two also in Morley. Cynewulf s 
Elene, together with Judith and the later Battle of Brunanburh 
and Battle of Maldon, are translated in a single volume by Gar- 
nett. Whitman's Cynewulf s C7'ist is a good prose translation. 
Crist, Phoenix, and Andreas are translated, with other poems, in 
Gollancz's Exeter Book. Judith, the Wanderer, the Seafarer, the 
Dream of the Rood, Elene, and Phoejiix are to be especially 



430 AIDS TO STUDY 

recommended for reading. The student should not neglect to 
get a conception of the Caedmonian Paraphrase through selected 
passages. 

See Cook and Tinker, as above. 

The history of this period is one of fierce struggles, but of 
gradual development in two important directions. Historical 
authorities should be consulted for the growth of Christianity and 
the establishment of an EngHsh church, for the terrible invasions 
of the Danes, and for the consohdation of the scattered kingdoms 
into something like an English nationality. A united church and 
a united nation were largely due to the stress of conflict against a 
common foe. 

In what respects does the Christian poetry resemble the pagan 
poetry, and in what respects does it differ? To what extent does 
the poetry of this period show the direct influence of Christianity ? 
Why was not the literary triumph of Christianity more complete 
and speedy? What is the character of the Caedmonian Para- 
phrase, and what is its probable relation to Caedmon? What was 
the range and character of Cynewulf's work? Give an outline of 
Cynewulf's Elene. In what dialect were most of the poems of 
this period written, in what dialect have they been preserved, and 
to what causes is this state of affairs due ? 

Chapter III. — Anglo-Saxon Prose Period (871-1066). 

Bede's Ecclesiastical History, Alfred's Boethiics and Orosius, 
and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle are translated in Bohn's Antiqua- 
rian Library. Bede's account of Caedmon may be found in 
Chapter XXIV. An interesting passage of the Orosius is Alfred's 
original narrative of the voyages of Ohthere and Wulfstan. This 
passage is given by Morley ; and both in Morley and in Brooke's 
English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman Conquest 
may be found Alfred's most interesting preface to his translation 
of Gregory's Pastoral Care. Important passages from the 
Chronicle are the entries for the years 871, 878, 893-897, 958, 
975, and 1 137. The Battle of Brunanburh and the Battle of 
Maldon are translated by Garnett — the former also by Tennyson. 
For these poems, see Cook and Tinker, as above. 

The struggle with the invading Danes continued, but English 
nationality and Christianity were saved and strengthened by 
Alfred. Under his successors, the kingdom was extended until, 



AIDS TO STUDY 43 1 

after the defeat of the heathen forces at the battle of Brunanburh 
in 937, ^thelstan "became immediate king of all the Teutonic 
races in Britain, and superior lord of all the Celtic principalities " 
(Freeman). Toward the close of the tenth century, Danish in- 
roads began anew, and continued with such success that, from 
1016 to 1042, Danish kings sat on the throne of England. After 
a quarter of a century of native rule came the Norman Conquest 
in 1066. These events brought with them social and religious 
changes which it is important for the student of literature to 
understand. The Norman Conquest is one of the great turning 
points of EngHsh history, and marks the close of the Anglo-Saxon 
period. 

In what ways was literature affected by historical movements 
during the prose period? What was the relative position of 
prose and poetry in this period? Why is the prose inferior as 
literature ? What was the character and extent of King Alfred's 
contributions to literature? What is there in the Anglo-Saxon 
Chronicle that is valuable as literature or as history? Give a 
brief account of the contents of the Battle of Brunanburh^ and 
show its relation to historical movements. What sort of literature 
did ^Ifric write, and what are the merits of his prose style ? 

Chapter IV. — The Anglo-Norman Period (i 066-1 360). 

Layamon's Brut has been edited and translated by Madden. 
The romantic literature may be studied in ElHs's Specimens of 
Early English Metrical Romances and in Morley's Early English 
Prose Romances. Morley's English Writers gives an outline of 
the Brut and of Havelok the Dane, Many prose and verse texts 
may be found in Morris and Skeat's Specimens of Early English. 
An interesting edition of Mandeville'^s Travels, with facsimiles of 
the curious original illustrations, is that of John Ashton. Brief 
selections may be found in Craik's English Prose. The text 
oi Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight has been edited for the 
Early Enghsh Text Society. Gollancz has edited The Pearl with 
a translation. A good idea of the changes in the language may 
be obtained from Lounsbury or Emerson. 

The historical movements of the period are too many and too 
complicated for brief and comprehensive statement. Some of 
the most important matters that call for consideration are the 
growth of feudalism, the rise of chivalry and the prosecution of 



432 AIDS TO STUDY 

the Crusades, the strife between king and baronage, the founda- 
tion of universities, the struggle between ecclesiastical and civil 
power, the spread of the monastic orders, the development of 
Parliament and constitution, the civil and foreign wars, the 
growth of towns and industries. The important historical results 
are the union of the two races, the mingling of the two tongues, 
and the development of a new English nationality. At the close 
of the period, England is at last ready for the beginnings of a 
great national literature. 

What writers and works illustrate the native Enghsh and relig- 
ious spirit? What writers and works represent the Norman and 
romantic spirit? What is the character of Layamon's Brut? 
What were the great " cycles of romance " ? What is the 
character of Mandeville's Travels? What preparation was 
made by this period for the further development of EngHsh 
literature ? 

Chapter V. — The Age of Chaucer (1360-1400). 

Selections from Wyclif may be found in Craik, in Morley's 
Library of English Literature, in Old South Leaflets, in Maynard, 
Merrill and Go's. Enghsh Classics, in Arnold's Select English Works 
of Wyclif, and in Morris and Skeat's Specimens. Bosworth and 
Waring's Gospels gives in parallel columns the Gothic, Anglo- 
Saxon, Wyclif, and Tyndale versions. Selections from Langland 
and Gower may be found in Ward, Morley, and Morris and Skeat. 
The complete works of both poets are pubhshed by the Clarendon 
Press. The standard edition of Chaucer is that of Skeat, in six 
volumes. Other good editions are Skeat's Student's Chaucer and 
Pollard's Globe Chaucer. Corson's Chaucer's Ca?iterbury Tales 
contains the best parts of that poem, and is an excellent book for 
the student. Of the many essays on Chaucer, none is better than 
that of Lowell. The student should read the Prologue entire and 
at least one of the tales — -preferably the Knightes Tale or the 
Nonne Preestes Tale. Effort should be made to appreciate Chau- 
cer's masterly skill in the portrayal of character and in the telling 
of a story. Some of his descriptions should also be noted. Some 
knowledge of his pronunciation and metre is essential to an 
appreciation of the real beauty of his verse. 

The Hundred Years' War continues through the whole of this 
period. The real historical interest of the age, however, lies in 



AIDS TO STUDY 433 

certain movements of a less dramatic character. English nation- 
ality is developed in a marked degree. The power of Parliament 
is still further extended. Great social changes are taking place, 
certain phases of which are marked by the peasant revolt. The 
EngHsh church becomes more independent, and the great " Lol- 
lard " movement, headed by Wyclif, anticipates the Reformation. 
The century closes with the dethronement of Richard II by Henry 
of Lancaster. Literature throws much hght on these movements, 
and is in turn illuminated by them. In addition to the ordinary 
historical authorities, a book like Jusserand's English Wayfaring 
Life in the Fourteenth Century will be helpful in illustrating social 
conditions. 

How do Chaucer and Gower illustrate the romantic temper of 
the age? How do Chaucer, Wyclif, and Langland illustrate social 
and religious conditions? Give a careful description of some one 
or more of Chaucer's pilgrims. What is the plan of the Prologue? 
What is the plan of the Canterbury Tales ? How does the Prologue 
illustrate Chaucer's humor and his skill in character description ? 
Give an outline of the narrative of some one of the Canterbury 
Tales and specify Chaucer's chief excellences as a narrator. What 
classes of society are dealt with in the P7'ologue, and what is 
Chaucer's attitude toward each? Is his satire bitter or genial? 
Illustrate. Compare Chaucer with Langland, as a poet and as a 
man. 

Chapter VI. — The Fifteenth Century (1400-1500). 

Sufficient examples of Occleve and Lydgate may be found in 
Ward, Arber, Morley, and Morris and Skeat. The same authori- 
ties provide material illustrating the Scotch poets. The King's 
Quair has been edited by Skeat. Good editions of Malory's 
Morte d' Arthur are those of Strachey, Gollancz (Temple Clas- 
sics), and Rhys (Camelot Series, selected portions). Lanier's 
Boy's King Arthur is an abridgment, with an introductory essay. 
The standard collection of ballads is Child's English and Scottish 
Popular Ballads (five volumes). A condensation of this work is 
published in a single volume. Other important works are Percy's 
Reliques of Ancient Poetry, Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bor- 
der, and Gummere's Old English Ballads. Excellent selections 
may be found in Ward, Arber, and Morley. For the Mysteries, 
Miracle Plays, and Morahties, the best volumes of selections are 



434 AIDS TO STUDY 

Pollard's English Miracle Plays, Moralities, and Interludes and 
Manly's Specimens of the Pre-Shaksperean Drama. Selections 
may also be found in Morley's English Writers and Library of 
English Literature. The mystery or miracle type is well repre- 
sented by the Chester Play of Noah and the Towneley /y^_>' ^t/" /'^<? 
Shepherds ; the morality type by Everyman and Hyckescorner. 

The Hundred Years' War continued throughout the first half of 
the fifteenth century, resulting finally in the loss of the English 
dominions in France. The accession of Henry of Lancaster to 
the throne had established the right of Parhament to fix the royal 
succession ; and under the rule of the Lancastrian kings, parlia- 
mentary power naturally grew broader and firmer. Under Henry VI 
the weakness of the king led almost to anarchy. Jack Cade's 
rebellion is an index of the prevailing disorder. This state of 
affairs was still further intensified by the civil wars between the 
Houses of Lancaster and York, known as the Wars of the Roses. 
By the overthrow and death of Richard HI and the accession of 
Henry VII, the era of the Plantagenet kings came to an end, and 
the reign of the Tudors began. The last years of the century were 
years of peace. The century as a whole was one of war and tur- 
moil ; but it was marked also by industrial and commercial pros- 
perity, by the introduction of the art of printing, and by the 
beginnings of the Renaissance. The history of the period largely 
accounts for the stagnation of Hterature after the splendid promise, 
of Chaucer in the fourteenth century. 

How is the influence of Chaucer manifested in Occleve, Lyd- 
gate, and the Scotch poets ? What new attitude toward nature is 
displayed in the Scotch poets? What service did Malory perform 
for literature in collecting the Arthurian legends, and in what ways 
are modern poets indebted to his work? Give an account of the 
incidents and an estimate of the poetic quality of some of the 
more famous ballads. Give an oudine of a Miracle Play and an 
account of the way in which it was acted (see Bates's English 
Religious Drama). Give an outline of a Morality, and compare 
it with the Miracle Plays for dramatic interest. 

Chapter VII. — Beginnings of Renaissance and Reformation in 
England (i 500-1579). 

For the prose of this period, see M.oi\ey^s Library of English 
Literature and Craik's English Prose. For the poetry, see 



AIDS TO STUDY 435 

Ward's English Poets and Morley. For the drama, see Pollard's 
English Miracle Plays, Moralities, and Interludes, Manly's Speci- 
mens of the P^-e-Shaksperean Drama, and Morley. An English 
translation of More's Utopia may be found in Morley's Universal 
Library, in the Camelot Series, in the Temple Classics, and in 
Arber's Reprints. Ascham's chief works may be found in Arber's 
Reprints. Bosworth and Waring's Gospels contains the Gothic, 
Anglo-Saxon, Wyclif, and Tyndale versions. The poems of Wyatt 
and Surrey may be found in the Riverside Edition, in the Aldine 
Edition, in Arber's TottePs Miscellany, and in Arber's British 
Anthologies. The poetry of Sackville may be found in Scribner's 
Library of Old Authors ; his Gorboduc, in Manly's Specimens. 

The earUer part of the sixteenth century witnessed the 'spread 
of the new learning in England, and the growth of the universities 
under Renaissance influences. The influence of the Reformation 
is also to be noted. The conflict of Henry VIII with the papacy 
led to the reconstitution of the English church, the dissolution of 
the monasteries, etc. During the reign of Mary came Catholic 
reaction and severe persecution. With the accession of Elizabeth, 
Protestant influences revived and Puritanism began to grow. The 
reign of Elizabeth is characterized by a spirit of daring adventure 
and of intense patriotism. England rapidly grew into one of the 
first-rate powers of Europe. The history of the whole century is 
of great interest, and these are only a few of the movements which 
demand the attention of the student of Hterature. 

What steps mark the development of the drama during this 
period? Give some account of the character of the first English 
comedy and the first English tragedy. What new spirit in poetry 
is illustrated by the work of Wyatt and Surrey ? Who were the 
" humanists," and why are they so called ? What writers are 
especially associated with the Reformation, and what sort of liter- 
ary work did they produce ? Who were the leading prose-writers 
of the period, and in what ways was prose style improved ? 

Chapter VIII. — The Age of Shakespeare (i 579-1 625). 

Prose-writers. — Craik and Garnett may be consulted for the 
prose-writers of this and all succeeding periods. Sidney's Defense 
of Poesy is edited by Cook, the Arcadia by Sommer. Lyly's 
Euphues may be found in Arber's Reprints. Bacon's Essays 
may be obtained in the Temple Classics and in various other 



436 AIDS TO STUDY 

handy editions. Some of the best of these should certainly be 
read, as, for instance, Of Truth, Of Death, Of Love, Of Great 
Place, Of Ambition, Of Beauty, Of Studies. For other prose-writers 
of the period, brief selections will suffice. Some passages from 
the " Authorized Version " of the Bible should be read at this 
point. 

Ppets. — Good editions of Spenser and of the Faerie Queene 
in whole or in part are easily obtained. Book I of the Faerie 
Queene should be read by every student. Also some good essay 
on Spenser, like Lowell's or Dowden's. For other poets of the 
period, the selections in Ward and in Arber's Anthologies will be 
found adequate. These works may also be consulted for later 
periods. The selections from the sonnets of Sidney and Shake- 
speare in Ward should be read. 

Dramatists. — Several good earlier dramas are given in 
Manly's Specimens of the Pre-Shakspe7'ea7i Drama. A large 
variety of excellent selections may be found in Morley's Library 
and in Lamb's Specimens of English Dramatic Poets. Many 
single plays are edited, as in the Temple Dramatists. Thayer's 
Best Elizabethan Plays contains Marlowe's y<?w ^J/<7//'^,Jonson's 
Alchemist, Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaster, Fletcher and Shake- 
speare's Two Noble Kinsmen, and Webster's Duchess of Malfi. 
These five plays would alone suffice to give a good idea of the 
Elizabethan drama aside from Shakespeare. For students who have 
time to read more extensively, the Mermaid Series of the drama- 
tists may be recommended. 

Shakespeare. — Furness's Variorum Shakespeare, so far as pub- 
Hshed, is the authoritative edition for reference or for critical 
study. Good school editions are the Temple, the Arden, and the 
Rolfe. A wide range of reading on Shakespeare's life and work is 
suggested in the Reading and Study List. Some one play or more 
should certainly be read. For the beginner. The Merchant of 
Venice, Julius CcBsar, and Macbeth may be recommended. The 
first thing to be done with Shakespeare is to read him, for pure 
delight in his fascinating plots and his wonderful pictures of life 
and character. Beyond this, his work will bear the most careful 
and critical study ; but such study should be vital and distinctively 
literary rather than linguistic or textual. Minute criticism is well 



AIDS TO STUDY 437 

for the scholar ; but the Hving interest of Shakespeare should not 
be spoiled for the younger student by too close attention to details. 

During the reign of Elizabeth, England rose to the first rank 
among European powers. This was due in no small measure to 
the able and vigorous personality of the queen herself and to the 
labors and counsels of the great men by whom she was sur- 
rounded. The execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, destroyed a 
powerful rival. The war with Spain and the shattering of the 
Armada humbled the power and pride of the dominant state of 
Europe. The achievements of great explorers, adventurers, 
statesmen, and men of business tended to enrich the nation and 
to raise the importance of the solid middle classes. Unsurpassed 
literary achievement added the crown to England's greatness. 
The reign of James I (1603-1625) is chiefly memorable for the 
struggle between the growing power of the people through Parha- 
ment and the Stuart doctrine of the " divine right of kings." 

What is the "Spenserian stanza" ? Give an outline of the 
narrative of Book I of the Faerie Queene, and explain its allegory. 
Select examples of Spenser's music, picturesqueness, imaginative 
power, and nobility of spirit. What story of Sidney's Hfe is re- 
vealed in the sonnets of Astrophel and Stella ? Give an outline 
of Marlowe's Dr, Faustus ox Jew of Malta, and seek to make a 
judgment of its poetical and dramatic power. Describe the 
general picture of life in one of Shakespeare's dramas, bringing out 
the relations of the characters by showing the groups into which 
they naturally fall. Study some one of Shakespeare's characters 
(Shylock, Portia, Brutus, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, etc.), illus- 
trating each characteristic by reference to the drama. Analyze 
one of Shakespeare's dramatic plots, showing the connected series 
of events presented in each scene and in each act. Find illus- 
trations of Shakespeare's power to represent human passions. Show 
the range of Shakespeare's sympathy with a great variety of human 
beings. Find illustrations of Shakespeare's poetic power. Give 
examples of Shakespeare's vivid imagination. Which does Shake- 
speare portray best — men or women ? Illustrate. Show how 
the plot of Ben Jonson's Alchemist illustrates the classical unities. 

Chapter IX. — The Age of Milton (1625-1660). 

Prose-writers. — The miscellaneous prose literature will be 
sufficiently illustrated for the ordinary student by selections in 



438 AIDS TO STUDY 

Craik, in Garnett, and in Morley's Library. Most students would 
be interested in reading Walton's Complete Angler entire. The 
rich and stately prose style of the time may be profitably com- 
pared with the prose of the previous period and with the clearer 
and more modern prose of the Age of Dryden. 

Poets. — Herrick's poetry may be satisfactorily studied in the 
selections of the Golden Treasury Series or of Hale's Poems of 
Herrick. Excellent selections from Herrick and other poets in 
Ward ; at least as much of Herrick's poetry as is there given 
should be read. Also a few of the best songs of Suckling and 
Lovelace. 

Milton. — JO Allegro, II Pe7tseroso, Comus, Lycidas, and Book I 
of Paradise Lost should be read carefully. There are many anno- 
tated editions. Ai-eopagitica or selections from Craik and Gar- 
nett will illustrate his prose. Macaulay's Essay on Milton is a 
brilliant and interesting work. Corson's Introductio7i to Milto7i 
will be of great assistance. 

The conflict between " divine right" and civil liberty led to 
the famous Petition of Right. The dramatic struggle between 
Charles I and the Long Parliament is full of interest because of 
the great men and the great principles involved. When all else 
failed, the differences between king and people came to the deci- 
sion of civil war. Charles was defeated and beheaded. Then 
follows the era of the Commonwealth under Cromwell. The age 
was one of civil and religious conflict. The great issues were civil 
and religious liberty. The result was the temporary triumph of 
the Puritan party. Literature was strongly influenced, in both 
positive and negative ways, by the historical situation. Gardiner's 
First Two Stuarts and the Puritan Revolution and Dowden's 
Puritan and Anglican will be found instructive and illuminating, 
in addition to the ordinary histories. 

Compare the Cavalier Poets with Milton as to the spirit and 
quality of their poetry. Compare Milton's Areopagitica and Tay- 
lor's Liberty of Prophesying, as to style and sentiment. Make a 
careful comparison of D Allegro and // Penseroso as to the plan 
of treatment and the mood expressed. In what ways do Co?nus 
and Lycidas illustrate or contrast with the Puritan temper? Study 
the series of great descriptions in Book I of Paradise Lost and 
note what poetical qualities they illustrate. Is Samson Agonistes 



i 



AIDS TO STUDY 439 

a great drama? How does its method compare with that of 
Shakespeare? Of the Greek dramatists? 

Chapter X. — The Age of Dryden (1660-1700). 

Prose- writers. — The great prose masterpiece of the age is 
Bunyan's Filg?'im^s Progress. At least the first part should be 
read. The selections in Craik and Garnett will give a good idea 
of the style of Temple, Dryden, and other prose-writers. 

Poets. — In poetry Dryden is the great figure. His Song for 
St. Cecilia'' s Day and Alexander' s Feast should be read as repre- 
sentative of his lyric poetry, and Absalom and Achitophel as 
representative of his satires. The two lyrics and the best parts 
of the satire may be found in Ward. An instructive comparison 
between Dryden and Chaucer may be made by reading Palamon 
and Arcite, which is a free translation of Chaucer's Knightes Tale. 
Ward's selections from Butler will give the student an idea of the 
anti-Puritan spirit of the time. '^'"_' 

Dramatists. — Most of the Restoration drama is entirely unfitted 
for the young reader. Dryden's All for Love, Otway's Venice 
Preserved, and Farquhar's Beaiix' Stratagem are among the best 
and cleanest of these plays, though not altogether untinged by 
the prevailing looseness. 

Less than two years after Cromwell's death, the house of Stuart 
was restored to the throne (1660) in the person of Charles H. 
The reign of Charles, in harmony with his character, was one of 
intrigue and licentiousness. The foreign power of England not- 
ably declined. Charles was a man of comparatively easy disposi- 
tion, but toward the close of his reign, the old Stuart tyranny was 
in large measure revived. This state of affairs was made still 
worse under James H. In 1688 James fled from England, and 
the throne was declared vacant. Parliament elected to the throne 
as joint monarchs Mary, the daughter of James, and her husband, 
WiUiam of Orange. Under their reign began a new era, of con- 
stitutional monarchy, of comparative civil and religious freedom, 
of revived national power, of greater decency in social life. These 
historical conditions are strikingly reflected in literature. ■';; 

What is the nature of the allegory in Bunyan's Pilgrim^ s Prog- 
ress? What are the reasons for its great popularity and influ- 
ence? Compare Bunyan's style with Dryden's, and note some 



440 AIDS TO STUDY 

reasons for the difference. How does Butler's Hudibras reflect 
the spirit of the age ? What are the characteristic merits of Dry- 
den as a lyric poet? Illustrate by examples Dryden's gift of 
satiric portraiture. What was the nature of Dryden's work as a 
dramatist? What marked changes in the drama were produced 
by the Restoration Period? 

Chapter XI. — The Age of Pope (1700-1740). 

Prose-writers. — In Swift's Gulliver's Travels, the first and 
second voyages should be read. The Battle of the Books may be 
found in Garnett. Addison and Steele are best represented by 
the Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. An admirable edition, contain- 
ing also other papers from the Spectator and Macaulay's Essay on 
Addison, is Thurber's Select Essays of Addison, Every student 
should read Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, and his Journal of the 
Plague Year is also extremely interesting and characteristic. 
Good selections from all of these writers may be found in Craik, 
Garnett, and Morley. 

Poets. — Good selections from all the poets in Ward and Arber. 
The Rape of the Lock should be read entire, and also some selec- 
tions from the translation of the Iliad. The Epistle to Dr. Ar- 
buthnot will illustrate Pope's skill as a satirist, and selections from 
the Essay on Criticism and Essay on Man his didactic verse. 
These last are given in Ward. 

The most interesting historical events of the reign of Queen 
Anne have to do with foreign wars and domestic politics. Both 
have left their mark on Hterature ; but more important than either 
is the study of social and industrial conditions. At the death of 
Anne, the throne fell to George I, the first of the Hanoverian 
kings. For a quarter of a century the history of England is 
largely the history of Whig politics and of English trade. Politi- 
cal life was corrupt' and cynical, and social life was extremely 
materialistic. The '' practical " seemed to have completely super- 
seded the ideal. 

What characteristics of a good story are to be found in Swift's 
Gulliver'' s Travels? What is the nature of its satirical purpose? 
For what quahties is Swift's style noteworthy? Compare Addi- 
son's style with Swift's. Illustrate from the De Coverley Papers 
the portrayal of characters from real life. How does the method 



AIDS TO STUDY 441 

of portrayal compare with that of Chaucer in the Prologue? What 
personal qualities of Addison and Steele are revealed in the .S/J'd'^- 
/^/(?r essays ? By what means does Defoe succeed in producing 
realistic effect? Compare Pope with Dryden as to the method 
and spirit of his satire. Illustrate from Pope the spirit and the 
manner of Classicism. Why is the Rape of the Lock Pope's most 
perfect work? Why is Pope's poetry especially fitted for quo- 
tation ? 

Chapter XII. — The Age of Johnson (1740-1780). 

Poets. — The selections in Ward, Arber, and Morley will suffice 
to give an idea of the poetry of Thomson, Young, Collins, Chatter- 
ton, Johnson, and the lesser poets. The best of Gray and good 
selections from Goldsmith will be found in the same works ; but 
these two writers deserve to be read more fully. Gray's Elegy, 
Progress of Poesy, and The Bard should certainly be read care- 
fully, and at least Goldsmith's Deserted Village entire. All of 
these poets should be compared with Spenser, Milton, and Pope, 
in order that the student may judge whether romantic or classical 
influences were most felt by them. 

Novelists. — Good selections from Richardson's Pamela, Field- 
ing's Tom Jones, and Sterne's Tristram Shandy — as well as from 
earlier prose romance — are given in Simonds's Introduction to 
English Fiction; and from various novels of these and other 
writers, in Craik and Morley. The one novel of the period that 
should certainly be read entire is Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. 
This and Johnson's Rasselas are printed in many good editions. 
It is desirable that the student should read at this point some 
brief work on the history of the novel. Any of the works men- 
tioned in the Reading and Study List will be found interesting and 
instructive. 

Prose-writers. — Goldsmith is one of the most exquisite prose- 
writers of the Hterature, and some of his charming essays should 
be read. Johnson's Lives of the Poets will represent him at his 
best. If possible, parts of Boswell's Life of Johnson should be 
read. Burke is not to be neglected. His speech on Conciliation 
with America should be known to every student, both for, its 
matter and for its style. These and other prose-writers are 



442 AIDS TO STUDY 

admirably represented by the selections in Craik, Garnett, and 
Morley. 

Dramatists. — Goldsmith's Good-Natured Man and She Stoops 
to Conquer are published in one volume in the Belles Lettres 
Series. Sheridan's Rivals and School for Scandal 2iX^ published 
separately in the Temple Dramatists. The second drama in each 
case will represent the author at his best. 

Foreign wars and domestic politics still continue to play a 
prominent part in history. The condition of politics is vastly 
improved. Patriotism becomes something more than an empty 
word or a cloak for corruption, and higher political and social 
ideals prevail. The great Methodist revival under the Wesleys 
marks a quickened moral and religious sense among the people. 
England's modern industrial system is growing, and bringing with 
it great ecomomic changes. The winning of the Indian empire is 
balanced by the loss of the American colonies as a result of the 
American Revolution. There is a notable struggle for the free- 
dom of the press. The names of Chatham and Burke indicate 
the high level of British statesmanship. 

What poets of the age represent the growing interest in nature 
and the tendency toward romanticism? To what extent are these 
same movements represented in the non-poetic literature of the 
time ? What writers are conservative or reactionary ? What phases 
in the development of the novel are marked by this period ? What 
is the difference between a novel and a romance? Characterize 
the style of each of the great prose-writers of the age, and com- 
pare them with earlier masters of prose style. What writers rep- 
resent in their works the growing spirit of individualism ? What 
writers reflect in their works the historical movements or conditions 
of the age ? 

Chapter XIII. — The Age of Burns (1780-1800). 

The poets of the period are fairly represented in Ward, Arber, 
and Morley. Some of the charming lyrics of Blake should be read, 
and the quality of Cowper should be studied in such works as John 
Gilpin's Ride, On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture, The Casta- 
way, and portions of The Task. Burns is, of course, the great 
poetic figure of the age, and every one should be familiar with his 
best poems. The Cotter's Saturday Night, Tam CShanter, To a 



AIDS TO STUDY 443 

Mouse, Auld Lang Syne, To Mary in Heaven, The Banks <?' Doon, 
Farewell to Nancy, Highland Mary, Bannockburn, A Red, Red 
Rose, A Man's a Man for a' that, are all indispensable ; and the 
student may go much farther with both interest and profit. 

In this period the history of the eighteenth century culminates. 
For all Europe, as well as for England, the French Revolution is 
the great central fact of the age. What France achieved through 
a tremendous convulsion, England was achieving through slow but 
steady progress. The spirit of individualism was asserting itself 
with irresistible power. For the time being, England found her- 
self compelled to war with France in defence of order and law, 
yet the two nations were moving in the same direction. During 
most of the period the younger Pitt was prim.e minister, and he 
proved a worthy pilot through the great storm. Other important 
movements of the time were those for prison reform and for the 
abolition of the slave trade. 

In what ways is the development of the novel continued during 
this period? How are the four leading poets of the period related 
to the principle of individualism ? What are some of the evidences 
of Cowper's importance as a poet of nature? What are the pecu- 
Harities of Crabbe as to subject-matter and method of treatment? 
What are the distinguishing qualities of Blake's poetry? What 
qualities in Burns's poetry account for its great popularity? How 
are man and nature associated with each other in Burns's poetry? 
Illustrate from his poems Burns's lyric gift, his humor, his breadth 
of sympathy, his poetic imagination, his passionate feeling, his 
independence of spirit. 

Chapter XIV. — The Age of Wordsworth (i 800-1 832). 

Poets. — The various poets of the age are well represented by 
the selections in Ward. Each of the six poets discussed in the 
text should be carefully studied through at least a few typical 
selections. The best of Wordsworth's poetry is gathered in Ar- 
nold's volume of selections in the Golden Treasury Series. The 
introductory essay in this volume is one of the best on Words- 
worth. Lowell's essay is also to be recommended. Excellent 
annotated volumes are George's edition of the Prelude and Selec- 
tions from Wordsworth. The student will need a guide amid the 
mazes of Wordsworth's rather unequal poetry ; and either Ward, 
Arnold, or George will guide him safely and wisely to the very 



444 AIDS TO STUDY 

best. Ward or George's Select Poems of Coleridge should be used 
in the study of Coleridge's poetry. Coleridge's masterpiece is 
The Rhne of the Ancient Mariner, This, the beautiful fragment 
of Christabel, and Dejectio7i : An Ode, should be known to every 
reader. Scott's poetry is best represented by his longer narrative 
works. Either Marmion, The Lady of the Lake, or The Lay of the 
Last Minstrel should be read entire. For Byron, Arnold's Golden 
Treasury edition will be found a helpful guide. The third canto 
of Childe Llarold and the Prisojier of Chillo?i may be profitably 
read. The selections in Ward are good, but somewhat fragmentary. 
For Shelley nothing is better than the selections in Ward. Stanzas 
written in Dejection near Naples, Ode to the West Wind, The 
Cloud, To a Skylark, and Adonais should certainly be read. Stu- 
dents who have opportunity to read Prometheus Unbound "n'iW find 
Scudder's edition an admirable guide to a rather difficult poem. 
Keats's Eve of St. Agnes, Ode to a Nightingale, Ode on a Grecian 
Urn, To Autumn, and La Belle Dame sans Merci, together with 
the selections from LLyperion and from the sonnets given in Ward, 
should be read. Voluminous selections from these six poets — 
including most of the poems mentioned — are given in Page's 
B7'itish Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 

Novelists. — Scott and Jane Austen are represented by good 
selections in Craik ; but if possible, at least a single novel of each 
should be read entire. Selection may be made from Scott's 
Lvanhoe^ The Talis7na7i, Kenilworth, The Fortunes of Nigel, Old 
Mortality, Guy Mantierifig, and The Heart of Midlothian, and 
from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility y and 
E7mna. 

Prose-writers. — The selections in Craik will give a good 
conception of the prose literature of the time. De Quincey and 
Lamb should receive fuller consideration. De Quincey's Confes- 
sions of a7i Opiu7n-Eater is extremely interesting. Other fasci- 
nating works are Leva7ia and Our Ladies of Sorrow, The English 
Mail Coach, Joan of Arc, Flight of a Tartar Tribe, The Spanish 
Nun. Lamb's Dissertation on Roast Pig is one of the most 
charming of the Essays of Elia ; but the student who has leisure 
can not do better than to take the Essays of Elia and browse 
among them to suit his fancy. 

Much of the historical interest of the early years of the nine- 



AIDS TO STUDY 445 

teenth century gathers around the wars with Napoleon. The 
battle of Trafalgar in 1805 saved England from threatened inva- 
sion. The battle of Waterloo in 1815 brought the wars to an end 
by the overthrow of Napoleon. In the meantime had occurred 
the War of 181 2 with the United States. The succeeding period 
of peace witnessed a decided revival of liberahsm. Economic 
distress and labor troubles favored the growing demand for par- 
liamentary reform. After a bitter struggle, extending over several 
years, the great Reform Bill was passed in 1832. While it did not 
secure ideal conditions, it greatly extended the elective franchise, 
transferred political power to the great middle class, and marked 
the beginning of democratic conditions in England. One of the 
earliest acts of the reformed Parhament was the abohtion of slavery 
in the British dominions, and this was shortly followed by factory 
and pauper legislation which relieved the worst wrongs of the 
white slaves of the modern industrial system. 

What poems or passages from Wordsworth illustrate his spirit- 
ual insight into the significance of common things and common 
men? Illustrate from Coleridge's Ancient Jlfarifzer smd Christabel 
the peculiar character of his imagination. Give an outline of the 
story of Scott's Mannion or Lady of the Lake. Show how 
Byron's poetry reflects his own personahty and experience. 
Compare Shelley's Adonais as an elegy with Milton's Lycidas. 
Illustrate from Keats's poetry his love for sensuous beauty. Char- 
acterize Scott and Jane Austen as novelists, and compare them 
with each other. Give a brief statement of Coleridge's critical 
views on Wordsworth and on romantic Hterature (see Beers's Selec- 
tions from the Prose Writings of Coleridge') . What elements of 
great literary genius are revealed in the writings of De Quincey? 
What qualities give such a peculiar charm to Lamb's prose style ? 

Chapters XV-XVII. — The Age of Tennyson (1832-1892). 

Prose-writers. — Craik's selections will be found invaluable 
for the many excellent prose-writers of the period. From 
Macaulay should be read at least one of the historical essays 
{Lord Clive, Warren Llastings, Eai'l of Chatham, William Pitt, 
etc.), one of the literary essays {Milton, Biinyan, Addison, Gold- 
smith, fohnso7i, etc.), and the famous third chapter of his History 
of England. Carlyle's Essay on Burns will perhaps best serve 
the purposes of the average student. Heroes and Hero- Worship 



446 AIDS TO STUDY 

is among his most important and characteristic works. One of 
the finest passages of his masterpiece, Sartor Resartus, is the 
chapter on "The Everlasting Yea" (Book II, Ch. VII). From 
The French Revolution, Chapter VI of Book V and Chapter X 
of Book VII may be read. Ruskin is best represented by a 
volume of selections, Hke that of Vida D. Scudder. Sesame and 
Lilies should be read entire. From Modern Painters read " Of 
the Open Sky " (Part II, Sec. Ill, Ch. I, first few pages), 
"Of Water, as painted by Turner" (Part II, Sec. V, Ch. Ill, 
last three paragraphs), " The Mountain Gloom " and " The Moun- 
tain Glory" (Part V, Chaps. XIX and XX). From Stones of 
Venice read " St. Mark's " (Vol. II, Ch. IV). For Arnold's prose, 
Gates's volume of selections is to be recommended; it has an ■ 
admirable introductory essay. Arnold's Introduction to Ward's 
English Poets should be read, and also his essays on Gray and 
Keats in Ward and his essay introductory to his edition of 
Wordsworth. 

Novelists. — There are good selections in Craik from the 
novelists of the period, but these can not take the place of the 
reading of complete novels. Dickens is well represented by Pick- 
wick Papers, David Copperfield, Nicholas Nickleby, A Tale of Two 
Cities, Oliver Twist, or The Old Curiosity Shop, From Thackeray 
should be read Vanity Fair, Henry Esmond, or The Newcomes. 
For George Eliot, choice should be made of Silas Marner, Adam 
Bede, or The Mill on the Floss. Representative works of the 
minor novelists are suggested after their names in the Chrono- 
logical Outline. 

Poets. — Voluminous selections from the eight leading poets 
of the period (Tennyson, Mrs. Browning, Robert Browning, 
Clough, Arnold, Rossetti, Morris, Swinburne) are given in Page's 
British Poets of the Ni?ieteenth Century. Good selections from 
these and other poets in Ward. The selections from Arnold in 
Ward are especially full and judicious. Poems of Arnold to be 
particularly recommended are Dover Beach, The Forsaken Mer- 
man, The Strayed Reveller, Sohrab and Rustum, The Scholar- 
Gypsy, Thyrsis, Palladiu?n, and Rugby Chapel. The selections in 
Ward from Mrs. Browning — as also those from Robert Browning 
— are very unsatisfactory. The Sonnets from the Portuguese are 
given in full by Page. These and Cowper's Grave should be read. 



AIDS TO STUDY 447 

For Browning, one needs a guide ; and Corson's Introduction to 
Browning or George's Select Foejns of Browning may be recom- 
mended. A few of the best poems are My Last Duchess, The 
Flight of the Duchess, The Last Ride Together, Prospice, Home 
Thoughts from Abroad, Old Pictu7'es in Florence, Andrea del 
Sarto, Fra Lippo Lippi, The Bishop Orders his Tomb at St. 
Fraxed^s Church, Abt Vogler, Rabbi Ben Ezra, A Grammarian' s 
Funeral, An Epistle of Karshish, Saul, Childe Rola7id to the Dark 
Tower Came, Cleon, A Death in the Desert, Epilogue to Asolando, 
In a Gondola, In a Balcony, Pippa Passes. Van Dyke's Poems 
by Tennyson is a good introductory volume, and the selections 
in Ward are reasonably satisfactory. Among poems that should 
be read are The Poet, The Lady of Shalott, The Two Voices, The 
Miller's Daughter, The Palace of Art, The Lotos- Eaters, " You ask 
me, why, though ill at ease,'' Morte d''Ai'thur, Dora, Ulysses, Locks- 
ley Hall, Godiva, St. Agftes' Eve, Sir Galahad, ^'- Break, Break, 
Break,'' The Brook, Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington ^ 
Northern Farmer, the songs from The Prificess, Maud, Guinevere 
from Idylls of the King, Enoch Arden, The Revenge, Merlin and the 
Gleam, The Maki?zg of Man, The Silent Voices, Crossing the Bar, 
and from In Memoriam, the Prelude and Lyrics IX-XIX, LIV- 
LVII, LXXXV, CVI, CIX, CXIV, CXX, CXXVI, CXXXI. 

The history of the Victorian Period has been more complicated, 
though less dramatic, than that of previous eras. The student 
will be called upon to consider movements which develop slowly 
and quietly, but which are vastly important in their results. Vic- 
toria came to the throne in 1837. Her reign falls naturally into 
two parts. Some of the important events and movements of the 
first era are the progress of parliamentary reform, the effect of 
new inventions, the Chartist movement, postal reform, the Irish 
agitation, the Tractarian movement, the repeal of the corn laws, 
factory legislation, the Crimean War, the Indian Mutiny. During 
this era, the old Whig and Tory parties passed away with the 
passing of old pohtical issues. The second era is marked by the 
struggle of the new Liberal and Conservative parties on new 
ground and with new aims. This era is characterized by the 
growth of liberalism and by the further extension of the elective 
franchise. The whole reign is noteworthy for the advance toward 
democratic conditions and for the progress of material civilization. 



448 AIDS TO STUDY 

It is marked also by the development of science, with its influ- 
ence on religious thought and on practical life. The influence 
of these conditions on literature is discussed in the text, and may 
be profitably studied in the works of literary historians and critics. 
What are the characteristics of Macaulay's style or method of 
presentation that make his works so attractive ? What is Carlyle's 
attitude toward the great movements of his age ? What are his 
special powers as a Hterary craftsman ? Indicate the range of 
Ruskin's subject-matter and the peculiarities of his style. What 
are some of the characteristics of Arnold as a literary critic ? 
How does Dickens's humor aflect his portrayal of life and char- 
acter ? Analyze one of Dickens's plots, and give an opinion as to 
his skill in the handling of a story. How are Thackeray's novels 
affected by his satirical purpose? What aspects of human life 
does Thackeray chiefly portray, and how far is he successful in 
the creation of lifehke characters ? In what ways are the novels 
of George Eliot influenced by democratic and scientific tenden- 
cies? Show by illustration whether George Eliot's skill as a 
novelist lies chiefly in the handling of plot or in the delineation 
of character. What poems of Arnold illustrate his attitude toward 
religious faith ? Characterize that attitude. What is revealed in 
Mrs. Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese as to the quality of 
her poetical genius and as to her love for Robert Browning ? 
What does Robert Browning mean by describing his own work 
as " poetry always dramatic in principle "? Describe Browning's 
method in the use of the dramatic monologue. What is Brown- 
ing's attitude toward science and religion ? . What characteristics 
of a great poet are to be discovered in Browning's work ? What 
does Tennyson's poetry reveal as to his conception of the poetic 
art ? Illustrate from his poetry the range of subject-matter with 
which Tennyson deals. Compare Tennyson with Arnold and 
Browning in the matter of religious faith. For what poetical 
qualities is Tennyson's work most noteworthy? Show to what 
extent the democratic and scientific tendencies of the age are 
manifested in prose literature — in the novel — in poetry. 

Additional Suggestions for Literary Study. 

The following suggestions are condensed from Crawshaw's 
Interpretation of Literature and Literary Interpretation of Life 
(The Macmillan Co.). 



AIDS TO STUDY 449 

Style. — Any good rhetoric will give the student an idea of the 
quahties of style to be noted in a great writer ; but the following 
outhne will perhaps be found more serviceable for purposes of 
hterary study and criticism. 

There are four great elements in the substance of all literature 
— Thought, Emotion, Imagination, and Beauty ; and from these 
naturally flow four great classes of style quahties — the Intellectual, 
the Emotional, the Imaginative, and the ^Esthetic. By intellectual 
qualities of style are meant such qualities as are determined by 
the character of the thinking. They are of all kinds and degrees, 
good, bad, and indifferent, according as the thought itself is of 
one sort or another. For purposes of study we may, however, 
note three great intellectual virtues of style — Correctness (rhe- 
torical as well as grammatical). Clearness (including both per- 
spicuity and precision), and Simplicity (as distinguished from 
abstruseness, ornateness, etc.). It may be noted that clearness 
and simplicity are not absolute virtues of style, but only relative 
to the subject, the writer, the occasion, etc. Perhaps a safe prin- 
ciple would be that the style should be as clear and simple as the 
thought and the circumstances will allow. By emotional qualities of 
style are meant such qualities as are determined by the character 
of the feehng. These qualities vary with every shade and degree 
of emotion ; but we may note three groups or classes — Strength 
(of all degrees, from animation to vehemence, from brilHancy to 
sublimity). Pathos (expressing the tender or passive emotions), 
and the Ludicrous (wit, humor, etc.). Imaginative qualities of 
style are such as are determined by the images or conceptions to 
be expressed. Two may be noted — Concreteness (indicating the 
power of language actually to convey images or conceptions) and 
Suggestiveness (indicating the power of language to hint or suggest 
what no words can directly convey). Esthetic qualities are such 
as are determined by the beauty of the substance. Three such 
quahties are Melody (the pleasing succession of sounds). Harmony 
(the pleasing concord of sound with sound and of sound with 
sense), and Propriety (the beautiful appropriateness of style to the 
subject, the purpose, the occasion, the writer, etc.). By applying 
these tests to style, the student may make an adequate judgment 
as to its merits and limitations. 

Plot. — The student will often have occasion to analyze the 
plot of a narrative poem, a drama, or a novel. He should observe 



450 AIDS TO STUDY 

that a satisfactory analysis does not consist of a mere running 
account of the events of a story. That is mere child's play, and 
does not involve any powers of insight or discrimination. It is 
hoped that the following directions will be found simple yet 
effective : 

First, make a definite statement of the outcome of the plot, in 
order that you may see whither the author is directing his effort. 
Secondly, make an outline of the development of the plot, along 
the three following lines : (i) The stages of the plot. Show here 
the main divisions of the plot, indicating the important events 
that begin and end each stage and the important events included 
within each stage. (2) Various threads of interest. Sometimes 
a plot is perfectly simple, moving along one direct Hne. More 
often, however, there are several lines of movement or threads of 
story. These should be separated from each other and carefully 
stated. Then it should be shown how they are bound together 
into the unity of the whole plot. Sometimes these different 
threads of interest are so distinct and important as to constitute 
what are called interwoven plots. A good example of this is 
found in Shakespeare's Mejrhant of Venice, where the Bond plot 
and the Casket plot are each very strongly marked. (3) Effective 
means of development. Here the student will be called upon to 
observe the means (a character, an event, a situation, sometimes 
arising within the story and sometimes affecting it from without) 
by which the author gets his story under way, gives it a new 
impulse when it would otherwise come to a stop, turns it in some 
new direction, and brings it to a close. Such " effective means " 
are found in the temptation of the witches in Macbeth and in the 
loss of Antonio's ships in The Merchant of Venice. Finally, the 
student may observe any striking details of the plot that may 
serve to illustrate the author's method or his skill as a narrator. 

Character. — Here there are two main objects of consideration : 
(i) Character portrayal. The endeavor should be to understand 
and to define what manner of man or woman the author has 
created. For this there is no evidence except the words, acts, 
and relations of the character itself, the opinions of other charac- 
ters in the story as shown by their words and their attitude, or the 
direct descriptions and explanations of the author. The student 
should endeavor to avoid reading into a work his own opinions or 
the opinions of anybody else. The work must speak for itself. 



AIDS TO STUDY 45 1 

As most characters are merely portrayed, study may usually stop 
with this point. (2) Character development. Some characters 
undergo a process of growth. They remain the same persons, 
but they are in some degree modified. Relying as before solely 
on the evidence of the work itself, this development should be 
traced through its various stages to the final result, with observa- 
tion of the way in which the modifications have been brought 
about. The only safe way to study any character is to trace it 
through the work from beginning to end, weighing in its proper 
order every piece of evidence that the work affords. Then let 
the imagination endeavor to conceive the character, thus studied, 
as a living whole. This is not so easy a method as to form one's 
conception by reading the opinions of the great critics, but it is 
a method that will help to make the student an independent critic 
for himself. After his own judgments have been made, it need 
hardly be said that there is the very greatest value in testing his 
views by the opinions of more competent judges. Criticism 
ought not to take the place of independent judgment, but it 
should be used to balance and correct independent judgment. 

The General Picture of Life. — Every great drama or novel 
involves something more than the delineation of individual char- 
acters. It involves also those associations or relations of charac- 
ters which make up a complex yet unified picture of human life. 
This may be studied under two heads : (i) The particular section 
of life portrayed. The purpose here should be to make clear just 
what part of the great field of human life the author has chosen to 
deal with in a particular work — in a word, what are the boundaries 
of the little plot that he has undertaken to till. Such a section of 
life may be defined with reference to historical time, geographical 
location, social rank, tragic or comic point of view, realistic or 
romantic method of conception, and in various other ways that 
will be suggested by individual works. For instance, Thackeray, 
in Henry Esmond, has given us a realistic portrayal, in a comic 
rather than in a tragic spirit, of certain phases of the fife of the 
EngKsh nobility during the reign of Queen Anne, and has involved 
the story of the futile efforts of the Stuart Pretender to regain the 
throne of England. This statement is necessarily very brief, and 
definition might be carried into further detail. (2) Character 
relations — as shown by character grouping. Character grouping 
is an interesting study, but should not be regarded as an end in 



452 AIDS TO STUDY 

itself. It IS important only as it serves to bring out the significant 
relations existing among the various characters. Each work will 
suggest its own principles of grouping. The various groups should 
be indicated, with the characters belonging to each. Then the 
relations that are indicated by this grouping should be pointed 
out. It should also be noted what changes in grouping take 
place as the work proceeds and how these changes are caused by 
changing relations. 

Imagination and Reality. — Every literary work is a creation 
of the imagination ; but imagination is always based upon a greater 
or less degree of reality. Observation should be made as to the 
real personages, incidents, scenes, objects, etc., involved in any 
work ; and then the question should be raised as to how far these 
realities have been modified or idealized by the author's imagina- 
tion. This study will often lead to the consideration of such prob- 
lems as real local setting, historical setting, sources of the plot, 
etc. In some works this real element is so large that observation 
rather than imagination seems to have been the author's chief 
business ; in others imagination has been exercised so freely that 
the real element is to be defined only in the most general terms. 

Emotion. — The emotional element in great Hterary work is so 
large and so important that no student should ignore it. There 
is not much that can be done in the way of formal analysis ; but 
one can at least observe the emotion and respond to it. It is 
important to note the emotion that dominates a whole work, that 
is manifested in some great character, that gives power to some 
striking scene. Minor emotions may receive attention according 
to their interest or significance. Just as one should be mentally 
alert in the reading of a great author, so one should also be emo- 
tionally alert, ready to give quick and adequate emotional response 
to every thrill of passion. An important distinction is that between 
the emotion of the author and the emotion of his characters. 

Thought. — In some works — mainly intellectual in character, 
like the essay — it is possible to make an accurate statement of 
the theme and then to make a definite outline showing all the 
divisions and phases of the thought. In a great imaginative work, 
like a drama, a novel, or a poem, this is not likely to be possible, 
because the thought is hidden behind plot, characters, pictures, 



AIDS TO STUDY 453 

or other imaginative symbols. Nevertheless, these symbols have 
meaning and are to be interpreted. Even in a story or a drama, 
it is worth while to attempt a statement of the author's central 
thought, and, so far as possible, of his whole course of thought in 
the work. In an allegory or a satire such interpretation of the 
thought is indispensable. Satisfactory judgment as to the central 
thought in a great imaginative work is to be reached mainly by 
considering the chief characters and their relations, the general 
effect of the picture of life, and the result of the plot. Statement 
of the thought should be in abstract terms, in order to distinguish 
it sharply from the concrete imaginative forms in which it is 
embodied. 

Literature and Life. — This book endeavors to emphasize the 
fact that literature is an outgrowth of life. Because it is an out- 
growth of life, it becomes in turn a revelation of life. This revela- 
tion — this literary interpretation of hfe — it is a large part of the 
business of the literary student to understand. Specific directions 
to this end can hardly be given in brief space ; but it may serve a 
useful purpose to call the attention of the student to certain broad 
aspects of the matter. Literature is first of all a revelation of 
personality ; the man is revealed in his work. Literature is a 
revelation of the age ; the whole body of literary work in a given 
time affords a comprehensive view of the character of the period. 
Literature is a revelation of the race ; enduring racial character- 
istics and the ever varying modifications of these are mirrored 
from age to age in what the race has written. Literature is a 
revelation of nationality ; institutions and governmental forms — 
monarchical, ohgarchical, aristocratic, democratic, etc. — find ex- 
pression in literary creation. Literature is a revelation of humattity; 
through the world's Hterature we may understand something of 
those fundamental human quahties that are deeper than all acci- 
dents of nationahty, of race, of age, or of any single personality. 



-INDISFARNE 



A Literary Map 
of 

ENGLAND 



Scale of Miles 



10 20 

BORN IN" LONDON 
Bacon. Blake, Brownin;;. Byron, 
Chaucer, Cowley, Crashaw, Deioe. 
Donne, Gray, Herrick, Jonson, 
Keats, Lamb, Milton. More, Pope, 
Kuskin, Spenser, Swinburne. 




Longitude West 



A Litonn AIip 
ol 

EIsGLAIsD 




INDEX 



Abbotsford, 289, 424. 

Absalom and Achitophel, 187, 439. 

Abt Vogler, 395, 447. 

Abuses Stript and Whipt, 146. 

Acres, Bob, 250. 

Adam Bede, 376, 377, 416, 446. 

Addison, Essay on, 340, 440, 445. 

Addison, Joseph, 182, 205-212 ff., 

219, 235, 242, 249, 414, 420, 421, 

440, 441. 
Address of the Soul to its Body, 20. 
Address to the Deil, 266. 
Address to the English, t^t^. 
Adonais, 299, 310, 311, 318, 444, 445. 
Advancement of Learning, 148. 
^Ifric, 25, 31, 32, 410, 431. 
jEneid, Virgil's, 78, 95, 411. 
Agincourt, Ballad of, 113. 
Aglaura, 413. 
Aids to Reflection, 288. 
Alas tor, 309, 310. 
Albion's England, 113. 
Alchemist, The, 137, 412, 436, 437. 
Alexander'' s Feast, 188, 439. 
Alexander the Great, 49. 
Alexandrian Romances, 49. 
Alfred, King, 25, 26, 27-29 ff., 410, 

421, 429 ff. 
Allegory, 23, 32, 43 ff., 49, 53, 59, 61, 

66, 67, 76 ff., 85, 90, 108, 109, 114, 

184, 185, 188, 202, 404. 
All for Love, 187, 414, 439. 
All's Well that Ends Well, 129. 
Alps, The, 273, 302. 
Alysoun, 46. 
Amelia, 237. 
America, 88, 249, 284, 328, 331, 361, 

442. 



Amoretti, 107, 112. 

Anatomy of Melancholy, 151, 413. 

Ancient Mariner, The, 284, 285, 

288, 415, 444, 445. 
Ancren Riwle, 45, 55, 411. 
Andrea del Sarto, 395, 447. 
Andreas, 23, 410, 429. 
Angles, The, 3,11. 
Anglicanism, 103, 202, 419. 
Anglo-Saxon, 5, 6, 7, 1 1, 12, 13, 17, 

93- 
Anglo-Saxon Christian Poetry, 12, 14- 

24, 27, 30, 31, 410, 429, 430. 
Anglo-Saxon Conquest, 3, 8, 29, 417, 

429. 
Anglo-Saxon Pagan Poetry, 3-13, 14, 

15, 19 ff., 27, 30, 31, 410, 428, 429. 
Anglo-Saxon Prose, 16, 19, 25-34, 

410, 430, 431. 
Anglo-Saxons, The, 3, 4, 1 1, 88, 119, 

429. 
Anglo-Saxon Verse, 5,6, 7, ii, 12, 13, 

17,40,42, 53, 60. 
Anne, Queen, 199, 218, 417, 418, 440, 

451- 

Annus Mirabilis, 186. 
Antony ajid Cleopatra, 131. 
Apollonitis of Tyre, 33, 410. 
Apologia pro Vita Sua, 416, 425. 
Appreciations, 416. 
Arbuthnot, Epistle to Dr., 219, 440. 
Arcadia, loi, 412, 435. 
Areopagitica, 174, 413, 438. 
Argument against Abolishing Christi- 
anity, 202. 
Ariel, 61. 
Aristotle, 71. 
Armour, Jean, 264, 265. 



455 



456 



INDEX 



Arnold, Edwin, 416. 

Arnold, Matthew, 48, 318, 327, 334, 

355-358' 382-385, 398, 416, 420, 

421, 424 ff., 443, 444, 446, 448. 
Arnold, Thomas, 382. 
Artegall, 108. 
Arthurian Legends, 38, 43, 48, 49, 53, 

79, 172, 406,426,434. 
Arthur, King, 43, 48, 79, 108, 109,400, 

402, 406. 
Ascham, Roger, 92, 97, 412, 435. 
"Ask me no more where Jove bestows," 

160. 
Asolo, 397. 
AstrcEa Redux ^ 186. 
A strophe I, 107. 
Astrophel and Stella, ill, II 2, 412, 

437. 
As You Like It, 129. 
Atalanta in Calydon, 416. 
Athenian Orators, The, 340. 
Atticus, 219. 

Augustine, 15, 25, 41, 42. 
Auld Lang Syne, 265, 443. 
Aurora Leigh, 386. 
Austen, Jane, 256, 295-298, 318, 359, 

373» 41 5» 420, 421, 424, 444, 445- 
Austin, Lady, 259. 
Autumn, To, 317, 444. 
Ayenbite of Inwit, 51, 55, 41 1. 
Ayrshire, 265. 
Azarias, 20. 

Bacon, Essay on, 340. 

Bacon, Francis, 147-150,413,420,421, 

423, 427, 435. 
Ballads, 37, 45, 51, 66, 78-84, 113, 

232, 284, 288 ff., 401, 411, 418, 433, 

434. 
Banks <?' Doon, The, 443. 
Bannockburn, 265, 443. 
Banquo, 132. 
Barabas, 116. 
Bar Chester Towers, 416. 
Bard, The, 230, 441. 
Bar ere, Essay on, 341. 
Barons' Wars, 113. 



Battle of the Baltic, 326. 

Battle of the Books, The, 201, 202, 440. 

Beaumont, Francis, 139, 140, 142, 144, 

412, 421, 436. 
Beaux' Stratage 771, The, 194, 195,414, 

439- 
Becket, 406. 
Becket, Thomas \, 69. 
Beck ford, William, 256, 415. 
Bede, 16, 19, 26 ff., 41, 42, 410, 430. 
Bedford, 184, 191. 
Ben net Family, 296. 
Beowulf, 8-1 1, 14, 410, 427 ff. 
Bestiary, 44, 45, 55, 411. 
Bevis of Hampton, 49, 411. 
Bible, The, 16 ff., 25, 26, 31, 32, 40, 

43, 44, 49, 50, 54, 57, 58, 71, 82 ff., 

92, 93, 151, 152, 166, 172, 183, 185, 

355,411 ff., 432, 435, 436. 
Biographia Liter aria, 288, 415. 
Bishop Blougra7ii^s Apology, 393. 
Bishop Orders his To77ib, The, 447. 
Blackmore, Richard D., 416. 
Blake, William, 252, 253, 255, 260-262, 

415, 423, 442, 443. 
Blank Verse, 94, 95, 97, 114 ff., 130 ff., 

142, 171, 176, 187, 228, 259, 309. 
Bleak House, 361. 
Blessed Dainozel, The, ^id. 
Blickli7ig Homilies, 31, 410. 
Blot in the ^Scutcheon, A, 396. 
Boccaccio, 65, 67, 72, 189. 
Boethius, 28, 410, 430. 
Boniface, 195. 
Book of Martyrs, 97. 
Book of Snobs, 416. 
Borough^ The, 260. 
Boswell, James, 240 ff., 244, 421, 423, 

441. 
Bottom, 127. 
Bowge of Court, 412. 
^^ Break, Break, Break,^"* 447. 
Bride of Abydos, 300. 
Bristol, 233, 234. 

Britain, 3, 8, 29, 42, 97, 113, 417* 429- 
Britannia''s Pastorals, 145, 413. 
British, 43, 49, 289, 326, 357, 442, 445. 



INDEX 



457 



Britomartis, io8. 

Brobdingnag, 204. 

Broken Heart, The, 156, 413. 

Bronte, Charlotte, 380, 416, 421, 424. 

Brook, The, 402, 447. 

Browne, Sir Thomas, 158, 169, 319, 

413,421. 
Browne, William, 145-147, 413. 
Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 385-388, 

394, 416, 424, 446, 448. 
Browning, Robert, 271, 334, 360, 3S7- 

397 ff., 416, 420, 421, 424, 425, 

446 flf. 
Brnnanhiirh, Battle of, 30, 410, 429 ff. 
Brut, 40-43. 44, 48, 56, 411, 431, 432- 
Briit cV Angleterre, 43. 
Brutus, 42, 43, 48, 49, 66. 
Bulwer-Lytton, Edward, 379, 380, 416, 

424. 
Btinyan, Essay on, 340, 445. 
Bunyan, John, 182-185, 190, 191, 213, 

234» 414, 420, 421, 423, 439- 
Burke, Edmund, 247-250, 255, 414, 

420, 441, 442. 
Burney, Fanny, 256, 415, 420. 
Burns, Essay on, 445. 
Burns, Robert, 227, 229, 251 ff., 262- 

268, 270, 275, 278, 328, 330, 348, 

400, 415, 420, 421, 423, 424,442, 443. 
Burton, Robert, 151, 319, 413. 
Bussy, cCAmbois, 413. 
Butler, Samuel, 192, 414, 439, 440. 
Byron, Essay on, 340. 
Byron, George Gordon, Lord, 269, 

298-305, 307, 312, 314, 400, 4I5» 

420, 421, 424, 444, 445. 
Byron, Life o_/^ 415. 

Csedmon, 16-21, 22, 27, 28, 44, 410, 

429, 430. 
Ctedmonian Poetry, 18-20, 410, 429, 

430- 
Ccesars, The, 324. 
Cain, 302. 
Calcutta, 339, 367. 
Caleb Williams, 256,415. 
Caliban, 133. 



Caliban tipon Setebos, 393. 

Calidore, Sir, 108. 

Callista, 416. 

Calvin, John, 202. 

Cambel, 108. 

Cambridge, 103, 114, 164, 169, 170, 

173, 273,299,338,339,367,397. 
Campaign, The, 206, 414. 
Campbell, Thomas, 326, 415, 424. 
Campion, Thomas, 112. 
Canterbury, 15, ZZ, 69, 72, 93, IH- 
Canterbury Tales, 62, 68-74, 411, 

432, 433- 
Caponsacchi, 396. 
Captain Single t07i, 212. 
Capulet, 127. 

Carew, Thomas, 159, 160, 413. 
Carlovingian Romances, 49. 
Carlyle, Thomas, 271, 333, 342-351, 

352, 356, 358, 375, 416, 420, 421, 

424, 445, 446, 448. 
Casa Guidi Windows, 386. 
Castaway, The, 258, 259, 442. 
Castle of hidolence, The, 228. 
Castle of Otranto, 239, 256. 
Casuistry of Bo man Meals, 324. 
Catarina to Camoeiis, 386. 
Catholicism, 92, 103, 109, 164, 188, 

202, 435. 
Catiline, 137. 
Cato, 207, 414. 
Cavalier Poetr}', 159-163, 165, 166, 

169, 192, 438. 
Cavaliers, 155, 159-163, 165, 166, 169, 

192. 
Caxton, William, 78. 
Cecilia, 256, 415. 
Celtic Literature, On the Sttidy of, 

357- 
Cenci, The, 311. 
Changeling, 77ie, 142, 413. 
Chapman, George, 141, 143, 413, 

423. 
Characters, Overbury's, 151. 
Charity, 258. 
Charlemagne, 49. 
Charles I, 167, 174, 438. 



458 



INDEX 



Charles II, 167, 174, 182, 186, 439. 

Charles the Bold, 292. 

Charms, The, 4, 5, 410, 428. 

Charterhouse School, 367. 

Chartis77i, 349. 

Chatterton, Thomas, 233, 234, 414, 

423, 441- 
Chaucer, Geoffrey, 38, 55, 56, 60, 61, 

62-74 ff., 89, 103 ff., 119, 167, 189, 

218, 301, 411, 418, 420, 421, 426, 

427, 432 ff., 439. 
Chester, ?>2>, 434. 
Chevy Chase, 81. 

Childe Harold, 300-302 ff., 415, 444. 
Childe Roland, 395, 447. 
Christ, 17, 23, 44, 45, 59, 60, 82 ff., 

115, 177, 184, 226, 261, 393, 400. 
Christabel, 285, 286, 444, 445. 
Christian Hero, The, 209. 
Christianity, I, 4, 14-17, 20, 22, 25, 

26, 30, 31, 59, '^'i, 196, 429, 430. 
Christian Year, The, 416. 
Christ's Hospital, 318. 
Chronicle, Anglo-Saxon, 26, 27, 29 ff., 

33 ff-. 39. 40, 410, 411, 430, 431. 
Chronicle Plays, 97, 113, 116 ff., 126 ff., 

133. I4i> 419. 

Church of England, 181, 188, 212. 

Civil War, 155, 159, 173, 434, 438. 

Civil Wars of York and Lancaster, 
113, 412. 

Clarissa Harlowe, 236, 256. 

Classicism, 64, 96, 97, 102, 117, 118, 
I35» 137. 139, 146, 166, 167, 169, 
171, 179-182, 183, 185, 189, 190, 
196-199, 205, 207, 208, 212, 214 ff., 
225 ff., 236 ff., 247 ff., 258, 260, 
262, 268 ff., 326, 327, 357, 359, 384, 
385, 414, 422, 441. 

Classics, The, 90 ff., 95, 96, 121, 135, 
141, 188, 218. 

Cleanness, 54, 55, 411. 

Clean, 395, 447. 

Clive, Browning's, 395. 

Clive, Lord, Macaulay's, 340, 445. 

Cloister and the Hearth, 380, 416. 

Cloud, The, 307, 308, 444. 



Clough, Arthur Hugh, 385, 416, 421, 
424, 446. 

Cockermouth, 272. 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 269, 273, 
281-288, 291, 294, 297, 307, 314, 
318, 321, 323, 326, 415, 420 ff., 424, 

444, 445- 

Colin Cloufs Come Hojue Again, 107. 

Collar, The, 164. 

Collins, Wilkie, 416, 421. 

Collins, William, 229, 230, 252, 275, 
414,421,441. 

Colonel Jack, 212. 

Comedy, 84, 90, 91, 93, 96, 97, 114, 
118, 126 ff., 131, 133, 137, 138, 
140 ff., 156, 187, 193-195, 207, 209, 
246, 250, 419, 435. 

Comedy of Errors, 126. 

Commonwealth, 181, 438. 

CoJHplaint of Rosamond, 113. 

Complaint of the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, 96. 

Complaints, 107. 

Complete Angler, The, 158, 159, 413, 
438. 

Comus, 138, 171, 172, 174, 413, 438. 

Conceits, 145, 164. 

Conciliation with America, 441. 

Confederacy, The, 194, 414. 

Confessio Amantis, 61, 73, 4II. 

Confessiojis of an English Opium- 
Eater, 321, 322, 415, 424, 444. 

Congreve, William, 194, 414, 421. 

Conifigsby, 416. 

Conscious Lovers, The, '2.Q)<^, 414. 

Consolation of Philosophy, 28. 

Co7iversation, 258. 

Conversations with Ben Jonson, 147. 

Cordelia, 131. 

Coriolanus, 131. 

Corsair, The, 300. 

Cotter's Saturday Night, 253, 264, 267, 
268, 442. 

Count Robert of Paris, 292. 

Country Wife, The, 194. 

Courtly Makers, 95. 

Coventry, 83, 118, m. 



INDEX 



459 



Coverdale, Miles, 92, 412. 

Cowley, Abraham, 165-167, 190, 413. 

Coivper's Grave, 386, 446, 

Cowper, William, 224, 252, 253, 255, 

257-260, 262, 263, 271, 275, 415, 

420, 421, 423, 442, 443. 
Crabbe, George, 255, 260, 262, 415, 

420, 421, 443. 
Craigenputtoch, 345. 
Cranmer, Thomas, 93. 
Crashaw, On the Death of Mr., 167. 
Crashaw, Richard, 164, 165, 413. 
C7'ist, Cynewulf's, 22, 23, 429. 
Criticism, loi ff., 139, 186, 189, 207, 

210, 217, 242, 243, 281, 288, 314, 

319, 323, 325, 340, 353, 354, 357, 

358. 
Critic, The, 250. 
Cromwell, Oliver, 167, 168, 181, 186, 

190, 191, 348, 438, 439. 
CromwelPs Letters ajid Speeches, 348. 
Crossing the Bar, 407, 447. 
Cross, John Walter, 374. 
Crown of Wild Olives, 355. 
Crusades, 292. 

Cry of the Children, The, 385. 
Cry of the Human, The, 386. 
Cuckoo Song, 45. 
Culture and Anarchy, 358. 
Cur a Pastoralis, 27, 28. 
Curse of Kehama, 326. 
Cursor Mundi, 50, 55, 411. 
Cycles of Romance, 48, 49, 56, 411, 

432. 
Cymbeline, 43, 133, 403. 
Cynewulf, 21-23, 4IOj 429, 430. 

Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins, 78. 
Danes, The, 8 ff., 23 ff., 29, 30, 2>Z, 

430, 431. 
Daniel, Caedmonian, 18, 20. 
Daniel Deronda, 378. 
Daniel, Samuel, 112, 113, 143, 412. 
Dante, 64, 67, 175, 176, 261, 348. 
Dante, Essay on, 340. 
Darwin, Charles Robert, 332, 421. 
David and Bethsabe, 114, 412. 



David Copper field, 361, 416, 446. 

Davideis, The, 166. 

Death in the Desert, A, 392, 393, 447. 

Death Song, Bede's, 19, 410. 

De Cover ley Papers, 211, 212, 235, 
440. ^ 

Defense of Poesy, loi, 102, 412, 435. 

Defense of the English People, 174. 

Defoe, Daniel, 182, 212, 213, 234, 
414, 420, 421, 423, 440, 441. 

Dejection, 286, 444. 

Dejection near Naples, Stanzas writ- 
ten in, 309, 444. 

Dekker, Thomas, 141, 144, 413. 

Delia, 112. 

Democracy, 224, 225, 227, 230, 245, 
254, 257, 265, 269, 271, 328-331, 
335. ZZ'^y 343» 348, 349, 35 1, 356, 
359, 380, 385, 389, 398, 399, 445, 
447, 448. 

Deor, Lament of, 7, 410, 428. 

De Quincey, Thomas, 320-325, 337, 
350, 355, 415, 420, 421, 424, 444, 
445- 

Descent into Hell, 23. 

Desdemona, 130. 

Deserted Village, The, 224, 244, 245, 
414, 441. 

Dethe of Blaimche the Duchesse, 66. 

Devil, The, in Moralities, 90. 

Dialects, 17, 24, 26 ff., 30, 31, 40, 41, 
43, 44, 50, 51, 56, 63, 268, 430. 

Dickens, Charles, 360-367 ff., 377, 379, 
380, 416, 420, 421, 425, 446, 448. 

Dictionary, Johnson's, 242. 

Dido, 114, 117. 

Discourses in America, 357. 

Disraeli, Benjamin, 380, 416, 424. 

Dissenters, 181, 212. 

"Dissertation upon Roast Pig," 320, 

444- 
Divina Conimedia, 175. 
Dobbin, William, 368. 
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, 380, 416. 
Dombey and Son, 362. 
Domett, Alfred, 390. 
Don Juan, 304, 305. 



460 



INDEX 



Donne, John, 144, 145, 146, 159, 164, 
166, 169, 413, 421,422. 

Dora, 403, 404, 447. 

Double- Dealer, The, 194. 

Douglases, 290, 291. 

Douglas, Gawain, 78, 93, 411. 

Dover Beach, 334, 383, 446. 

Drama, 82-85, 89-91, 93, 96, 97, 102, 
113-143, 155, 156, 172, 175, 177, 
182, 186 ff., 193-195. 207, 209, 234, 
246, 249, 250, 302, 311, 319, 394- 
397, 403, 406, 411 ff., 418, 419, 

434 ff., 439, 442. 
Dramatic Idyls, 395. 
Dramatic Lyrics, 395. 
Dramatic Monologues, 395-397, 448. 
Dramatic Romances, 395, 
Drapier^s Letters, The, 203. 
Drayton, Michael, 112, 113, 143,412. 
" Dream-Children," 319, 320. 
"Dream-Fugue," 323. 
Dream of the Rood, The, 23, 410, 429. 
Dreme, The, 412. 
" Drink to me only with thine eyes," 

139. 
Drummer, The, 207. 
Drummond, William, 147, 413. 
Dry den. Essay on, 340. 
Dryden, John, 63, 64, 179, 181, 182, 

185-189 ff., 196, 215, 216, 221, 240, 

252, 270, 414, 419 ff., 438 ff. 
Dublin, 83, 199, 200. 
Duchess of Malfi, The, 143,413,436. 
Duessa, 109. 
Duke of Wellington, Ode on the Death 

of the, 401, 402, 404, 447. 
Dunbar, William, 77, 93, 41 1. 
Dunciad, The, 218, 219. 
Dyer, Sir Edward, 112. 

Earthly Paradise, The, 416. 
Eastward Ho I 141. 
Ecclefechan, 344, 345. 
Ecclesiastical History, Bede's, 19, 28, 

410, 430. 
Ecclesiastical Polity, 102, 412. 
Edinburgh, 147, 288, 321, 345. 



Edinburgh Review, 415. 

Edward I, 230. 

Edward II, 116. 

Edward III, 57, 65, 66, 417. 

Edward VI, 93. 

Egoist, The, 416. 

Elegies, 20, 21, 107, 147, 167, 171, 

172, 188, 224, 230, 310, 385, 405, 

410, 414, 441. 
Elegy, Gray's, 224, 230, 414, 441. 
Elene, 22, 410, 429, 430. 
Elia, Essays of^i^, 415, 444. 
Eliot, George, 332, 360, 373-380, 385, 

416, 420, 421, 424, 425, 446, 448. 
Elizabethan Age and Literature, 64, 

83, 95 ff., 100, 103, 104, III, 112, 

119, 120, 135, 136, 141, 143, 144, 

146, 148, 159, 168, 172, 175, 180, 

193, 223, 292, 319, 326, 417, 419, 

436. 
Elizabeth, Queen, 64, 92, 95, 97, 100, 

104, 109, 112, 114, 118, 120, 122, 

143, 144, 148, 435, 437. 
Eloisa to Abelard, 218. 
Emerson, 157, 422. 
Emjua, 297, 444. 
Emotionalism, 224 ff., 229, 230, 252, 

253, 259, 260, 262, 266, 269, 270. 
Endymion, Keats's, 312, 315. 
Endy?)iion, Lyly's, 113, 114, 412. 
England^ s Heroical Epistles, 113. 
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, 

299. 
English Mail-Coach, The, 323, 444. 
Enoch Arden, 398, 400, 401, 404, 447. 
Epic Poetry, 7-1 1, 14, 19 ff., 30, 40- 

43, 48, 49, 53, 61, 72 ff., 76 ff., 96, 

108-111, 166, i75-i77» 192, 217, 

218, 290, 291, 317, 406. 
Epilogtte to Asolando, 394, 447. 
Epistle of Karshish, 447. 
Epitaph on Charles II, 192, 193. 
Epithalamion, 107. 
Erasmus, 91. 

Essay of Drainatic Poesy, 186. 
Essay on Criticism, 217, 440. 
Essay on Man, 219, 440. 



INDEX 



461 



Essays, Bacon's, 148-150, 413, 435. 

Essays, Cowley's, 190, 413. 

Essays, Goldsmith's, 246, 414. 

Essays in Criticis??i, 357, 416. 

Essays, Macaulay's, 338, 340, 341, 416, 
421. 

Essenes, The, 324. 

Ethics of the Dust, 355. 

Eton, 90, 306. 

Eto7t College, Ode on a Distant Pros- 
pect of, 230. 

Euphues, 100, 113, 412, 435. 

Euphuism, 100, 103, 422. 

Evans, Mary Ann. See Eliot, George. 

Evelina, 256. 

Evening, Ode to, 229, 230. 

Eve of St. Agnes, 316, 415, 444. 

Everyman, 85, 434. 

Every Man in his Humotir, 137. 

Every Man out of his Humour, 137. 

Excursion, The, 281. 

Exodus, Caedmonian, 18. 

Fables, Dryden's, 188. 

Fables, Henryson's, 77, 411. 

Faerie Queeiie, The, 106, 107-III, 112, 

184, 228, 412, 436, 437. 
Faith, 407. 

Falles of Princes, 76, 411. 
Falstaff, 127, 128. 
Fare thee well, 303. 
Farewell to Nancy, 265, 443. 
Farquhar, George, 194, 195, 414, 439. 
Fates of the Apostles, 23. 
Father'' s Teaching, A, 20. 
Faust, Goethe's, 115. 
Fatistus, Doctor, 115, 412, 437. 
Ferdinand, Count Fathom, 238. 
Fiction, Prose, TyTy^ 73, 78, 79, 100, 

loi, 184, 185, 201, 202, 204, 205, 

212, 213, 234, 235, 419. See also 

Novel, The. 
Fielding, Henry, 236-238, 250, 414, 

420, 421, 441. 
Finnsburg, Fight at, 7, 8, 410, 428. 
FitzGerald, Edward, 141, 420. 
Flaming Heart, The, 164. 



Fletcher, John, 64, 139, 140, 142, 144, 

412, 421,436. 
Flight of a Tartar Tribe, 324, 444. 
Flight of the Duchess, The, 391, 395, 

447- 
Flodden Field, 290. 
Florence, 378, 388. 
Folk-Poetry, 4, 5, 45 ff., 80, 81. 
Ford, John, 155, 156, 413, 421. 
Forest, The, 138. 

Forsaken Merman, The, 385, 446. 
Fors Clavigera, 352, 355. 
Fortunes of Nigel, 444. 
Four P^s, The, 90, 412, 
Fox, John, 97. 
Era Lippo Lippi, 395, 447. 
Frederick the Great, Essay on, 340. 
Frederick the Great, History of, 349. 
French, 34, 36, 38, 39, 41 ff., 47 ff., 51, 

52, 60, 61, 66, 76, 79, 82, 83, 141, 

178, 180, 183, 198, 292, 357. 
French Revolution, 249, 254, 273, 

276, 283, 362, 420, 443. 
French Revolution, The, 347, 348, 446. 
Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, 114, 

412. 
Fuller, Thomas, 136, 157, 158, 319, 

413- 
Funeral, The, 209. 

Galahad, Sir, 400, 447. 

Gammer Gurton's Needle, 97, 412, 

Gascoigne, George, 412, 

Gawayne and the Grene Knight, Sir, 

53,55,411,431. 
Gay, John, 214, 414. 
Genesis and Exodus, 44, 55, 41 1. 
Genesis, Csedmonian, 18. 
Geoffrey of Monmouth, 42, 43, 48. 
German, 198, 283, 289, 323, 345, 346, 

357. 
Germany, 274, 289, 349. 
Giaour, The, 300. 
Gibbon, Edward, 28, 247, 414, 420, 

421, 423. 
Gloriana, 108, 109. 
Glubdubdrib, 204. 



462 



INDEX 



Goblin Market, 416. 

God and the Bible, 358. 

Go diva, 447. 

Godwin, Mary, 306. 

Godwin, William, 256, 306, 415, 421. 

Goethe, 115, 271,345. 

Going to the Wars, 160, 1 61. 

Golden Grove, The, 157. 

Golden Targe, The, 78. 

Goldsjuith, Essay on, 340, 445. 

Goldsmith, Oliver, 182, 224, 234, 239, 
242, 244-246, 247, 250, 414, 420, 
421, 423, 441, 442. 

Good-Natured Man, The, 246, 250, 
442. 

Gorboduc, 43, 96, 97, 412, 435. 

Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inven- 
tions, 95. 

"Gothic" Romance, 253, 256, 2575 
360. 

Gouver nail of Princes, 76, 411. 

Gower, John, 56, 60-62, 73, 76, 41 1, 

432, 433- 
Grace Aboundijig, 183. 
Grafmnarian^s Fimeral, A, 447. 
Grande Chartreuse, Stanzas from the, 

383- 
Gray, Thomas, 224, 230-232, 233,414, 

420, 421, 441, 446. 
Grecian Urn, Ode on a, 315, 317, 

444. 
Greece, 300, 314, 385. 
Greek, 91, 121, 151, 177, 1-78, 180, 

190, 218, 317, 321, 323, 357, 378, 

439- 

Greene, Robert, 112, 114, 412. 

Grey of Wilton, Lord, 104, 109. 

Guiding Impulses of English Litera- 
ture, 2, 4, 14 ff., 25, 26, 30, 36-38, 
39. 55' 75» 87 «-. 99, 100, 104, 109 ff., 
115, 119, 135' 145, 146, 148, 151, 
153 ff., 163, 172, 175, 179-182, 196- 
199, 205, 214, 221-227, 251-255, 
263, 268, 269, 283, 294, 295, 298, 

Z^Z, 329-335' 343> 344, 35^, 359' 
398. 
Guido, Count, 396. 



Guinevere, 401, 406, 447. 

Gulliver's Travels, 204, 205, 234, 360, 

414, 440. 
Guthlac, 23. 
Guy Mannering, 444. 
Guy of Warwick, 49, 41 1. 
Guyon, Sir, 108. 

Hallam, Arthur Henry, 397, 405. 

Hallelujah, 146. 

Hamlet, 129. 

Hampden, Essay on, 340. 

Handlynge Synne, 49, 51, 55, 411. 

Harold, Bulwer-Lytton's, 380. 

Harold, Tennyson's, 406. 

Harrow, 299. 

Hastings, 37, 49. 

Hastings, Essay on Warren, 340,445. 

Hastings, Warren, 249. 

Hathaway, Anne, 121. 

Havelok the Dane, 48, 56, 41 1, 431. 

Hawes, Stephen, 93. 

Hawkshead, 272. 

Hawthornden, 147. 

Hazlitt, William, 325, 326, 415, 420, 

422. 
Heart of Midlothian, 444. 
Hebraism, 356. 
Hebrew Melodies, 303. 
Hellenics, 415. 
Hellenism, 356. 
Hengist, 29. 
Henry HI, 48. 
Henry IV, 66, 433, 434. 
Henry IV, 128. 
Henry V, 76. 
Henry V, 128. 
Henry VI, 434. 
Henry VI, 1 1 7, 126. 
Henry VII, 434. 
Henry VIII, 435. 
Henry VIII, 133. 
Henry Esviond, 373, 416, 446, 451. 
Henryson, Robert, 77, 411. 
Herbert, George, 163, 164, 165, 413, 

423. 
Hero and Leander, 117, 412. 



INDEX 



463 



Heroes and Hero- Worship, 347, 348, 
421, 445. 

Heroic Couplet, 167, 187, 219, 220, 
228. 

Heroic Stanzas, 186. 

Herrick, Robert, 161-163, 413, 421, 
438. 

Hesperides, 1 61-163, 413- 

Heywood, John, 90, 142, 412. 

Heywood, Thomas, 142, 413. 

Highland Mary, 265, 443. 

Highlands, 242, 290. 

Hind and the Panther, The, 188. 

Historical Poetry, 112, 113, 143, 186, 
206, 

History, English, 3, 14, 15, 24 ff., ZZ ff-. 
47,48, 51,56,57, 60, 6i,65ff., 76ff., 
87, 88, 91, 93, 95, 104, 109, 112, 113, 
118 ff., 141, 143, 144, 147, 148, 151, 
i54ff., 159, 167, 168, i72ff., 181 ff., 
185, 186, 188, 192, 196, 197, 199, 206, 
212, 249, 254, 271, 273, 283, 329, 339, 
417, 418, 428 ff., 437 ff., 442 ff., 447, 
448. 

History of Edivard V and Richard III, 
92. 

History of England, Hume's, 247, 414. 

History of England, Macaulay's, 339, 

34i» 445- 

History of England, Robert Man- 
ning's, 51. 

History of Henry VII, 148. 

History of the Kings of Britain, 42, 

43- 
History of the World, 150, 413. 
Hogg, James, 415. 
Holinshed, Raphael, 97. 
Holy Dying, 159. 
Holy Grail, 38, 49. 
Holy Living, 157, 413. 
Holy State, The, 157. 
Holy War, The, 185. 
Homer, 141, 188, 189, 218, 261, 413. 
Homer and the Hotneridce, 324. 
Home Thoughts from Abroad, 447. 
Homilies, 25, 31 ff., 40, 45, 49, 50,410, 

411. 



Hood, Thomas, 416. 

Hooker, Richard, 102, 412. 

Hope, 258. 

Horace, 188. 

Horatius, 342. 

Horsa, 29. 

Horton, 170. 

Hotspur, 128. 

Hours of Idleness, 299. 

House of Clouds, The, 386. 

House of the Wolfngs, The, 416. 

Ho us of Earn e. The, 67. 

Houyhnhnms, 205. 

Howard, Henry. See Surrey. 

Hudibras, 192, 414, 440. 

Humanists, 91, 92, 94, 435. 

Hume, David, 246, 247, 414, 420. 

Humphrey Clinker, 238, 414. 

Hunt, Leigh, 415, 421. 

Husband^ s Message, The, 21. 

Huxley, Thomas Henry, 332. 

Hymn, Csedmon's, 17, 18, 28, 410, 429. 

Hymn on the Nativity, 170, 172. 

Hytnns, Spenser's, 107. 

Hymn to St. Theresa, 164. 

Hyperion, 315, 317. 318,444- 

lago, 130. 

Idea, 112. 

Idiot Boy, The, 278. 

Idler, The, 242. 

Idylls of the King, 400, 403, 406, 426, 

447- 

Iliad, 218, 440. 

// Penseroso, 170, 229, 438. 

Pnaginary Conversations, 415. 

In a Balcony, 392, 447. 

In a Gondola, 392, 395, 447. 

India, 249, 339, 340, 442, 447. 

Individualism, 225 ff., 230 ff., 236, 
240, 242, 244, 249, 251, 252, 254, 
255,262, 267 ff., 272, 278, 282 ff., 
295, 297 ff., 301, 302, 304, 305, 313, 
314, 326 ff., 338, 342, 343, 359, 415, 
442, 443- 

In Memoriam, t^t^t,, 397, 401, 402, 
405, 406,416,426, 447. 



464 



INDEX 



Inner Temple Masque, The, 146. 
Instauratio Magna Scientiarum, 148. 
Interludes, 90, 96, 118, 142, 412, 434, 

435- 
Jntimatiens of Im^nortality, 280, 281, 

415. 
Ireland, 102, 104, 107, 199, 200, 203, 

215, 326, 429. 
Irene, 250. 
Irish, 15, 104, 199, 203, 206, 249, 250, 

326, 447. 
Irish Essays, 357. 
Irish Melodies, 326, 415. 
Isabella, 316. 

Italian Literature, 65, 66, 67, 94. 
Italy, 65, 66, 73, 94, 143, 164, 289, 

300, 301, 306, 312, 385. 
Ivanhoe, 292, 444. 
Ivry, Battle of, 342. 

Jacobean Literature, 143-152, 419. 
James I, 141, 143, 144, 148, 151, 153, 

154, 437- 
James I of Scotland, 77, 411, 421. 
James II, 181, 188, 417, 439. 
Jane Eyre, 416. 
Jaques, 129. 

Jeffrey, Francis, 415, 425. 
Jew of Malta, The, 115, 116,412,436, 

437- 

Joan of Arc, 324, 444. 

John Anderson my Jo, 265. 

John Gilpin, 258, 442. 

John of Gaunt, 57, 66. 

" Johnsonese," 243, 244. 

Johnson, Essay on, 340, 445. 

Johnson, Esther, 203. 

Johnson, Life of, 244, 421, 423, 441. 

Johnson, Samuel, 166, 181, 182, 207, 
221, 222, 227, 234, 239-244, 246 ff., 
252, 253, 255, 257, 270, 348, 414, 
420, 421, 423, 441. 

Jonathan Wild, lyj. 

Jonson, Ben, 121, 135-139, Hi, I43» 
146, 147, 150, 151, 159, 161, 169, 
180, 18I5 412, 422, 436, 437 

Joseph Andrews, 236 



Journal of the Plague Year, 212, 440. 
Journal to Stella, 203. 
Journey to the Western Islands of Scot- 
land, 242, 
Judith, 20, 410, 429. 
Juliana, 22. 
Juliet, 127, 128. 
Julius CcEsar, 129, 436. 
Jungle Books, 416. 
Junian Manuscript, 18. 
Jutes, The, 3. 
Juvenal, 188, 241. 

Keats, John, 269, 310, 312-318, 351, 

415, 420, 421, 424, 444 ff. 
Keble, John, 416, 424. 
Kenil worth, 118. 
Kenilworth, 292, 444. 
Kent, 51, 61, 65. 
Killigrew, Elegy on Anne, 188. 
Kim, 416. 

King, Edward, 171, 172. 
King Hart, 78. 
King Horn, 48, 56, 411. 
King John, 128. 
A'm^ Z^^r, 43, 48, 131. 
Kingsley, Charles, 380, 416, 425. 
King's Quair, The, 77, 411,433. 
Kipling, Rudyard, 416, 427. 
Knightes Tale, The, 72, 77, 432, 439. 
Knowles, James Sheridan, 415. 
Knox, John, 97, 348. 
Kyd, Thomas, 114. 

La Belle Dame sans Merci, 444. 
Lady of Shalott, The, 400, 402, 404, 

447- 
Lady of the Lake, 290, 291, 444, 445. 
Lagado, 204. 

Lake District, 272, 274, 321, 323, 429, 
Lake Poets, 326. 
Lalla Rookh, 326. 
H Allegro, 1 70, 229, 438, 
Lamb, Charles, 142, 318-320, 415, 

420, 421, 424, 436, 444, 445. 
Lamb, Mary, 318, 319. 
Lament for the Alakers, 78. 



INDEX 



465 



Lamia, 316. 

Lancelot, 406, 

Landor, Walter Savage, 326,327, 415, 

420, 421. 
Langland, William, 38, 56, 58-60, 61, 

89,411,432,433- 

Language, English, 5 ff., 11 ff., 17, 24, 
26 ff., 30, 31, 34, 35, 40 ff., 49 ff., 
56, 60, 61, 63, 66, 69 ff., 76, 106, 
119, 418. 

Laputa, 204. 

Lara, 300. 

Last Days of Pompeii, 380, 416. 

Last Ride Together, The, 392, 447. 

Latimer, Hugh, 93,412. 

Latin, 19, 26, 27, 34, 39, 41, 42, 48, 
50, 52, 57, 61, 83, 91, 93, 102, 121, 
148, 149, 151, 164, 172, 180, 191, 

243. 
Latter-Day Pamphlets, 349. 
Layaraon, 38, 40-43, 44, 48, 56, 411, 

43 1 » 432. 
Lay of the Last Minstrel, 289, 290, 

444. 
Lays of Ancient Rome, 342, 416. 
Lectures and Notes on Shakespeare, 

288. 
Leech- Gatherer, The, 278. 
Legend of Good Women, 67. 
Leicester, Earl of, 104, 109. 
Letter to a Noble Lord, 249. 
" Levana and our Ladies of Sorrow," 

323* 444- 
Lewes, George Henry, 374. 
Lewis, Matthew Gregory, 256, 415. 
LJberty, Ode to, 230. 
Liberty of Prophesying, 157, 438. 
Life and Death of Mr. Badman, 185. 
Light Brigade, Charge of the, 400, 404. 
Light of Asia, The, 416. 
Lilliputians, 204. 
Lincolnshire, 49, 397. 
Litany, The, 162. 
Literature and Dogma, 358. 
Little Dorrit, 362. 
Little Jo, 363. 
Little Nell, 363. 



Lives of the English Poets, 242, 243, 
414, 441. 

Lives of the Saints, 32, 45, 410, 411. 

Loch Katrine, 290. 

Lockhart, John Gibson, 415, 424. 

Locksley LLall, 447. 

Lodge, Thomas, 112, 114, 411. 

Lollards, 57, 58, 89, 433. 

London, 57, 58, 64, 69, 76, Zt,^ 103, 
104, 107, III, 114, 121, 122, 135 ff., 
169, 186, 189, 199, 203, 212, 234, 

235» 300, 318, 321, 345» 352, 361, 

362, 367, 373, 374, 388. 
Lojtdon, Johnson's, 241. 
London Lickpenny^ 76. 
Lorna Doone, 416. 
Lotos-Eaters, The, 399, 402, 404, 

447- 

Louis XI, 292. 

Love for Love, 194, 414. 

Lovelace, Richard, 160, 161, 413, 
438. 

Love Poetry, 21, 44 ff., 61, 67, 72, 73, 
77,81,94, 107, III, 112, 122-126, 
127, 130, 140, 145, 147, 159-163, 
165, 166, 192, 214, 264, 265, 387, 
391, 392, 405. 

Lover'' s Complaiftt, A, 1 23. 

Love's Labour'' s Lost, 126. 

" Love still has something of the sea," 
192. 

Lucifer, 176. 

Lucrece, 123. 

Lucretius, 404. 

Luggnagg, 205. 

Luther, 202, 348. 

Lycidas, 171 ff., 310, 438, 445. 

Lydgate, John, 76, 411, 433, 434. 

Lying Lover, The, 209. 

Lyly, John, 100, 102, 103, 112 ff., 412, 
422, 435. 

Lyndesay, Sir David, 93, 412. 

Lyrical Ballads, 271, 274, 284. 

Lyric Poetry, 7, 20, 21,45-47, 51, 80, 
93 ff., 106, 107, III ff., 117, 123- 
126, 138, 139, 142 ff., 159-163, 166, 
169 ff., 188, 191 ff., 214, 229, 230, 



466 



INDEX 



233» 253, 258, 261, 268, 281, 290, 
303, 307-312, 31 7» 384, 386 ff., 395' 
396, 403, 405, 411, 412, 419, 427, 
439. 

Macaulay, Thomas Babington, 194, 
337-342, 343, 347» 356, 416, 420, 
421, 424, 438, 440, 445, 448. 

Macbeth, 131, 132, 142, 436, 437, 450. 

Macbeth, Lady, 132, 437. 

Macduff, 132. 

MacFlecknoe, 187. 

Machiavelli, Essay on, 340, 

Macpherson, James, 232. 

Magnyfycence, 93, 412. 

Mahomet, 348. 

Maiden Queen, The, 187. 

Making of Man, The, 407, 447. 

Malaprop, Mrs., 250. 

Malcontent, The, 141, 413. 

Maldon, Battle of, 30, 410, 429, 430. 

Malory, Sir Thomas, 78, 79, 411, 433, 

434- 
Mammon, Sir Epicure, 137. 
Mandeville^s Travels, 52, 411, 431, 

432. 
Manfred, 302. 

Manning, Robert, 49, 51, 55, 411. 
Man's a tiian for d' that, A, 227, 254, 

265, 268, 443. 
Mansfield Park, 296. 
Marguerite, 384. 
Marius and Sy II a, 114, 412. 
Marlowe, Christopher, 112, 114-117, 

119, 135, 136, 141, 143, 147, 156, 

412, 421, 436, 437. 
Marmion, 290, 415, 444, 445. 
Marshalsea Prison, 361. 
Marston, John, 141, 413. 
Marvel], Andrew, 191, 192, 414, 420. 
Mary in Heaven, To, 265, 443. 
Mary M orison, 265. 
Mary, Queen of Scots, 109, 437. 
Mary, To, 257, 259. 
Mary, Virgin, 44, 45. 
Masques, 138, 146, 171, 412. 
Massacre of Paris, wj. 



Massinger, Philip, 155, 156, 413. 
Maud, 401, 405, 447. 
Measure for Measure, 129. 
Medal, The, 187. 
Mediterranean, 311. 
Melrose Abbey, 290. 
Memoirs of a Cavalier, 212. 
Merchant of Venice, 128, 436, 437, 

450- 
Meredith, George, 381, 416, 426. 
Merlin and the Gleam, 447. 
Merry Wives of Windsor, 128. 
Metaphysical Poetry, 144, 145, 166. 
Methodism, 253, 442. 
Michael, 278, 279. 
Michel, Dan, 51, 411. 
Middle Ages, 2,^, 44, 49, 62 ff., 66, 68, 

76, 79, 83 ff., 87, 89, 92, 93, 96, 115, 

118, 223, 226, 239, 253, 257, 289 ff., 

314, 349, 406. 
Middle English, 35 fif., 40, 41, 43fiF., 

62, 65, 79. 
Middlemarch, 378. 
Middleton, Thomas, 142, 413. 
Midsiwimer Nighfs Dream, 126, 127. 
Miller''s Daughter, The, 400, 403, 

404, 447- 

Mill on the Floss, The, 377, 446. 

Milton, Essay on, 338, 340, 438, 445. 

Milton, John, 64, 138, 146, 153 ff., 
159, 163 ff., 168-178, 180, 182, 183, 
189 ff., 198, 229, 230, 252, 261, 270, 
274, 310, 323, 413, 419 ff., 423, 427, 

437' 438' 441, 445- 
Minot, Lawrence, 51, 41 1. 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 289, 

433. 
Mirabeau, Essay en, 340. 
Miracle Plays, 82, 83, 118, 411, 433 ff. 
Miranda, 133. 

Mirror for Magistrates, 95, 96, 412. 
Misanthrope, Le, 141. 
Mixed Essays, 357. 
Modern Painters, 353, 354, 416, 446. 
Modest Proposal, 203. 
Moliere, 141. 
Moll Flanders, 212. 



INDEX 



467 



Monk, The, 256, 415. 

Montague, 127. 

Moonstone, The, 416. 

Moore, Thomas, 326, 415, 420,424. 

Moral Epistles, 219, 

Moralities, 85, 89, 90, 93, 96, 118, 

411,412,433 ff. 
Morality, 383. 
Moral Ode, 40, 44, 55. 
More, Sir Thomas, 91, 92, 148, 412. 
Morris, William, 334, 416, 421, 426, 

446. 
Morte d' Arthur, Malory's, 78, 79, 411, 

433. 
Morte d^ Arthur, Tennyson's, 447. 
Mother Hubbard'' s Tale, 107. 
Mother's Picture, On the Receipt of^ny, 

259, 442. 
Mouse, To a, 443. 
Much Ado About Nothing, 128. 
MuipottJios, 107. 
Munera Pulveris, 354. 
Murder considered as one of the Fine 

Arts, 324. 
Musical Instrument, A, 386. 
My Last Duchess, 447. 
" My mind to me a kingdom is," 112. 
My Nanie, O, 265. 
Mysteries, 82-85, 89, 96, 118, 411, 

433 ff. 
Mysteries of Udolpho, 256, 415. 

Napoleon, 348, 415, 445. 

Napoleon, Life of, 415. 

Naseby, Battle of 342. 

Nash, Thomas, 114, 117. 

Nature in English Literature, 4, 5, ii, 
21, 45 ff-. 53, 74, 11, 78, 105, 106, 
120, 122, 146, 157 ff., 161 ff., 165, 170, 
214, 217, 218, 224 ff., 233, 245, 252, 
259, 260, 262 ff., 269, 273-277, 279, 
280, 283, 286, 287, 293, 301, 302, 
305, 308-311, 314, 317, 352, 353, 
392, 397, 402, 403, 420, 442, 443. 

Necessity of Atheism, 306. 

Ned Bratts, 395. 

Nelson, Life of, 326, 415. 



Nether Stowey, 284. 
New Atlantis, 148. 
Newcome, Colonel, 368, 370. 
N'ewcomes, The, 368, 446. 
Newman, John Henry, 416, 425. 
New Way to Pay Old Debts, 156,413. 
Nicholas Nickleby, 362, 446. 
Nigger Question, The, 349. 
Nightingale, Ode to a, 317, 444. 
Night Thoughts, 224, 229, 414. 
Noble Nu ni bers, 162. 
Nodes Ambrosiance^ 415. 
Norman Conquest, 27, 29, 31 ff., 35, 

36, 39, 179, 221, 417,418,431. 
Norman French, 34, 37 ff., 41 ff., 47 

ff.,51,56. 
Normans, 35 ff., 43, 49, 54,56, "9, 

432- 
Norse Mythology, 232, 233. 
Northanger Abbey, 296. 
Northern Antiqjiities, 232. 
Northern Cobbler, The, 404. 
Northern Farmer, The, 398, 404, 

447- 
Northumbria, 15, 17, 23, 24, 26 ff., 51, 

429. 
Norton, Thomas, 97. 
Novel, The, 185, 211, 213, 224, 226, 

227, 234-239, 245, 246, 253, 255- 

257, 272, 291-293, 295-298, 318, 

zz^, 332, 359-381, 414 ff-, 419, 441 

ff., 446, 448. See also Fiction, Prose. 
Novtim OrganujH, 148. 
Nut- Browne Maid, The, 81, 

Occleve, Thomas, 76, 411, 433, 434. 

Odyssey, 218. 

(Enone, 404, 

Old Curiosity Shop, 361, 446. 

Old Fortunatus, 142, 413. 

Old Mortality, 444. 

Old Pictures in Florence, 395, 447. 

Oliver Twist, 446. 

Olney, 257, 258. 

On his being arrived at the Age of 

Tzventy-three, 170. 
Oratory, 156, 157, 248, 250, 325. 



468 



INDEX 



Oriental Romance, 33, 256, 300, 314, 

326. 
Orison of Our Lady^ 44, 55. 
Orm, 38, 43, 44,411' 
Ormzilum^ 43, 44, 55, 411. 
Orosius, 28, 29, 410, 430. 
Orphan, The, 193. 
Ossian, 233. 
Othello, 129, 130. 
Otway, Thomas, 193, 414, 439. 
Oicr Mutual Friend, 361. 
Overbury, Sir Thomas, 151. 
Overreach, Sir Giles, 156. 
Ovid, 188, 189. 
Owl and the Nightingale, The, 47, 

411. 
Oxford, 50, 56, 91, 306, 321, 357, 382. 

Paganism, I, 3 ff., ii, 14, 20, 22, 25, 

26, 30, 31, 348, 429. 
Pageants, 84, 118. 
Palace of Art, The, 404, 447. 
Palafnon and Arcite, 439. 
Palice of Ho7iour, 78, 41 1. 
Palladium, 334, 384, 446. 
Pamela, 235, 236, 414,441. 
Pantisocracy, 283. 
Paracelsus, 391. 

Paradise Lost, 175-177, 342, 413, 438. 
Paradise of Dainty Devices, 95. 
Paradise Regained, 175, 177. 
Paraphrase, Caedmonian, 18. 
Parisina, 300. 
Parleme7it of Foules, 67. 
Parliament, 65, 191, 208, 338, 339, 

432 ff., 437 ff., 445. 
Passionate Pilgrim, The, 123. 
Passionate Shepherd to his Love, The, 

117. 
Passion Play, 84. 
Passions, Ode to the, 229. 
Past and Present, 349. 
Pastoral Care, 27, 28, 430. 
Pastorals, 77, loi, 107, 129, 147, 171. 
Pater, Walter, 416. 
Patience, 54, 55, 411. 
Paul Dombey, 363. 



Pauline, 271. 

Pearl, The, 53, 55,411,431. 

Peele, George, 112, 114, 412. 

Pennsylvania, 283. 

Percy, Thomas, 232. 

Peregrine Pickle, 238. 

Pericles, 2)2)- 

Periodical Essay, 207-212, 242, 246, 

414. 
Persuasion, 297. 
Peter Bell, 278. 
Peterborough, 34. 
Petrarch, 65, 73. 
Petrarch, Essay on, 340. 
Pheidippides, 395. 
Philaster, 140, 412, 436. 
Philistinism, 356. 
I 'hi I lis, 412. 
Philosophical Poetry, 113, 144, 145, 

175, 219, 241, 280, 281, 390-393, 

405 ff. 
Philosophy, 147, 148, 156, 175, 190, 

214, 246, 249, 256, 281, 283, 287, 

316, 324, 2,3?,, 345 ff-» 390. 
Phoenix and the Turtle, The, 123. 
Phoenix, The, 23, 410, 429. 
Pickzvick Papers, 446. 
Piers Plowman, 58-60, 411, 421, 
Pilgri??i^s Progress, 1 83-185, 234, 414, 

439- 

Pindaric Odes, Gray's, 230. 

Pindarique Odes, Cowley's, 166. 

Pippa Passes, 392, 396, 397, 447. 

Pitt, William, Earl of Chatham, Es- 
say on, 340,445 (442). 

Pitt, Willia?n, Essay on, 340, 445, 

(443)- 
Plain-Dealer, The, 194, 414. 
Plautus, 90. 

Pleasures of Hope, The, 326, 415. 
Plutarch, 188. 
Poema Alorale, 40, 41 1. 
Poet-Laureate, 188, 270, 326, 397. 
Poets' Corner, 66, 104, 189. 
Poet's Mind, The, 403. 
Poet, The, 403, 447. 
Political Justice, 414. 



INDEX 



469 



Polyolbion, 113, 412. 

Pompilia, 396. 

Pope, Alexander, 64, 147, 166, 181, 
182, 196, 198, 214-220, 221, 225, 
227, 240, 241, 252, 257, 270, 323, 
386, 414, 419 ff., 423, 440, 441. 

Popular Superstitions of the High- 
lands of Scotland, 230. 

Portia, 128, 437. 

PrcEterita, 355. 

Prayer Book, English, 93. 

Prelude, The, 274, 281, 443. 

Pricke of Conscience, 50, 55, 411. 

Pride and Prejudice, 296, 415, 444. 

Prince Hal, 76, 128. 

Princess, The, 401, 402, 404, 405, 426, 

447- 

Printing, 78, 87, 434. 

Prior, Matthew, 214, 414. 

Prisoner of Chillon, 444. 

Procter, Bryan Waller, 415. 

Profane State, The, 157. 

Progress of Error, The, 258. 

Progress of Poesy, The, 231, 441. 

Prometheus Unbound, 311, 312, 415, 
424, 444. 

Prophetic Books, 261. 

Prose, English, 19, 25-34, 45, 50 ff., 
57» 58, 78, 79, 92, 93, 97, 100-103, 
139, 148-152, 156-159, 169, 173, 
174, 183, 184, 186, 189-191, 198, 
199, 202, 205, 207, 209, 211, 213, 
214, 235, 241 ff., 255, 288, 297, 318, 
319, 322, 324, 325, 327, 340, 341, 
35off-, 355, 358, 365, 371, 418. 

Prospero, 133. 

Prospice, 394, 447. 

Protestant Cemetery at Rome, 305, 
306, 313. 

Protestantism, 57, 92, 435. 

Prothalamion, 107. 

Provoked Wife, The, 194. 

Puck, 126, 127. 

Pulley, The, 164. 

Puritans and Puritanism, 57, 58, 103, 
146, 152, 155, 156, 159, 161 ff., 168, 
172, 173, 175, 178,- 179, 181 ff., 186, 



191 ff., 196, 348, 417, 419, 435, 438, 

439- 
Purpose in Fiction, 366, 368, 372, 379, 
380. 

Quantock Hills, 284. 
Queen Mary, 406. 
Quentin Durward, 292. 

Rabbi Ben Ezra, 389, 390, 395, 447. 

Race, Literature and, i, 35 ff,, 49, 56, 
75, 119, 178, 180,429,453. 

Radcliffe, Ann, 256, 296, 415. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 104, 109, 144, 
147, 150, 151,413,423. 

Ralph Roister Doister, 90, 96. 

Rambler, The, 242. 

Rape of the Lock, 217, 219, 440, 441. 

Rasselas, 239, 241, 414, 441. 

Reade, Charles, 380, 416, 421. 

Realism, 47, 60, 63, 68, 70, 74, 78, 90, 
91, 103, 134, 136, 137, 140, 185, 
205, 208, 212 ff., 226, 227, 235 ff., 
255, 256, 260, 296-298, 330, 332, 
359 ff., 368 ff., 377, 380, 381, 391. 

Recessional, 416. 

Recruiting Officer, The, 194, 195. 

Red Cross Knight, 108, no. 

Reformation, 57, 87 ff., 92 ff., 97, 99, 
104, 109 ff., 119, 153, 154, 175, 179, 
348, 411, 412, 417, 433 ff. 

Reform Bill of 1832, 271, 329, 339, 

445- 
Reign of Terror, 273, 347. 
Relapse, The, 194. 
Religio Laid, 188. 
Religio Medici, 158, 413. 
Religion, 3 ff., 11, 14-16, 22, 24 ff., 28, 

■hZ^ 35, Z1 ff-, 42 ff., 47, 49 ff., 53 ff., 
63, 75, 78, 82, 84, 85, 87 ff., 92, 94, 
99, 100, 109, III, 112, 118, 145 ff., 
153 ff., 159, 162 ff., 169, 172, 173, 
175, 178, 179, 181, 183, 184, 186, 
188, 196, 224 ff., 229, 252, 253, 258, 
259, 262, 266, 267, 270, ZZZ, 334, 
344, 356, 375, 382, 385, 389, 429, 
448. 



470 



INDEX 



Reliques of A7icient English Poetry, 
232. 

Renaissance, 83, 87 ff., 91, 92, 94, 99, 
100, 104, 109 ff., 115, 119, 135, 145, 
146, 148, 151, 153 ff., 172, 175, 179, 
223, 226, 265, 411, 412, 418, 419, 

434, 435- 
Restoration, 174, 182, 183, 185, 186, 

189, 191 ff., 195, 197, 199, 215, 246, 

417, 439,440. 
Retirement, 258. 
Revenge, The, Tennyson's, 401, 404, 

447- 
Revenge, The, Young's, 250. 
Revival of Learning, 87, 91, 92, 

435- 
Revolutionary Spirit, 225, 231, 257, 

269, 273, 298, 299, 305, 306, 311, 

313, 329, 348. 
Revolution of 1688, 188. 
Rhyme of the Duchess May, 387. 
Richard I, 292. 
Richard II, 67, 126, 433. 
Richard III, 126, 127, 132. 
Richardson, Samuel, 224, 235 ff., 256, 

414, 420, 421, 423, 441. 
Richelieu, 416. 
Ring and the Book, The, 394, 396, 

416. 
Rivals, The, 250, 442. 
Rizpah, 401. 
Robert of Gloucester's Chronicle, 48, 

51,411. 
Robin Hood, 80. 
Robinson Crusoe, 213, 234, 235, 414, 

440. 
Robyne and Makyne, 77. 
Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 192, 

193- 

Roderick Dhu, 290. 

Roderick Random, 238. 

Rolle, Richard, 50, 55, 411. 

Romance, 33, 35, 37 ff., 42 ff., 47 ff., 
51 ff., 61, 62, 66 ff., 72 ff., 77 ff., 85, 
100, loi, 103, 114, 120, 126 ff., 
132 ff., 137, 142, 148, 179, 185, 204, 
212, 213, 223, 234, 239, 288, 330, 



395, 396, 431 ff. See also Roman- 
ticism. 

Roman Empire, Decline and Fall of 
the, 247, 414. 

Romanticism, 104, 113, 117, 135, 136, 
138 ff., 166,172, 179, 180, 193, 205, 
217, 218, 221 ff., 232, 233, 236, 239, 
242, 245, 252, 253, 256, 257, 260, 
262, 265, 266, 269, 283, 285 ff., 
291 ff., 305, 313, 314, 319, 324, 326, 
327, 334, 359, 360, 362, 380, 385, 
403, 406, 420, 424, 441, 442. See 
also Romance. 

Rome, 15, 21, 22, 28, 109, 129, 138, 
305, 306,312. 

Romeo and Juliet, 126, 127. 

Ro7?iola, 378. 

Rosalind, 412. 

Rosamond, 207. 

Rossetti, Christina, 416, 426, 

Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 416,420, 421, 
423, 425, 426, 446. 

Round Table, 43, 79. 

Rousseau, 348, 

Roxana, 212. 

Royalists, 159-161, 166, 186. 

Royal Society, 339. 

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, 141. 

Rugby, 382. 

Rugby Chapel, 334, 384, 446. 

Ruins of Ro?ne, 107. 

Ruins of Time, 107. 

Ruin, The, 21. 

Runes, 22, 24. 

Ruskin, John, 351-355, 35^, 35^, 416, 
420, 421, 424 ff., 446, 448. 

Ruthwell, Cross, 20, 23, 410. 

Sackville, Thomas, 95 ff., 412, 435. 

St. Agnes' Eve, 400, 447. 

St. Albans, 52, 147, 

St. Cecilia's Day, Song for, 188, 439. 

St. Katherine, 82, 83. 

St. Mary Redcliffe, 233. 

St. Patrick's, Dublin, 200. 

St. Paul and Protestantism, 358. 

St. Paul's, 57, 144, 169. 



INDEX 



471 



St. Peter, 202. 

St. Ronan's Well, 292. 

Samson Agonistes, 175, 177, 178, 413, 

438, 439- 

Sartor Resartus, 271, 345 ff., 416, 446. 

Satan, 177. 

Satire, 47, 63, 73, 74, 78, 93, 94, 113, 
131. m^ 141, 146, 187 ff., 191, 
192, 200 ff., 207, 208, 210-212, 214, 
216 ff., 229, 237, 238, 241, 258, 296, 
297. 299, 304, 369, 371, 372, 377, 
405, 439 ff., 450. 

Satire of the Three Estates, 412. 

Saturn, 317. 

Saul, 392, 393, 395, 447. 

Savonarola, 378. 

Saxons, The, 3, ii, 

Scandinavian Mythology, 348. 

Scenes from Clerical Life, 377. 

Schiller, Life of, 345, 348. 

Scholar- Gypsy, The, 385, 446. 

Scholasticism, 65, 92. 

School for Scandal, The, 250, 414, 
442. 

Schoolffiaster, The, 92, 97, 412. 

Schools and Universities on the Con- 
tinent, 357. 

Science, 147, 148, 190, 316, 328, 331- 
335» 343, 344, 352, 353, 356, 359, 
360, 375, 381, 385, 388, 389, 391 ff., 
398, 44S. 

Scop, 5 ff., II, 12, 19, 21, 429. 

Scotch, The, 51, 77, 78, 80 ff., 93, 141, 
147, 228, 244, 264, 265, 268, 292, 
293, 326, 345, 351,433,434. 

Scotland, 20, 77, 78, 80, 81, 263, 289, 
291, 345, 418, 429. 

Scott, Life of, 415, 424. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 239, 269, 271, 288- 
295, 297, 300, 2>^Z, 314, 318, 359, 
379, 380, 415, 420, 421, 424, 433, 
444, 445- 

Seafarer, The, 21, 429. 

Seasons, The, 228, 229, 414. 

Sedley, Sir Charles, 192. 

Sejamis, 137. 

Senecan Drama, 97, 118, 180. 



Sense and Sensibility, 296, 444. 

Sentimentalism, 224, 226, 229, 230, 
236 ff., 253, 260, 296, 363, 366. 

Sentimental Journey, 224, 238, 414. 

Sesame and Lilies, 355, 446. 

Seven Lamps of Architecture, 353. 

Shakespeare, William, ;}^'^, 64, 76, 99, 
100, III ff., 116, 117, 118-135 ff-, 
147, 154, 155, 157, 166, 177, 180, 
220, 223, 251, 271, 287, 301, 318, 
319, 323, 326, 347, 348, 362, 373, 
379, 403, 412, 419, 421,422, 435 ff-, 
439, 450- 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 234, 269, 299, 
305-312 ff., 318, iz-], 415, 420, 421, 
424, 427, 444, 445. 

Shepherd^s Calendar, 106, 107. 

Shepherd'' s LLzaiting, 146, 413. 

Shepherd^ s Pipe, 145, 146. 

Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 246, 250, 
255, 414, 420, 421, 423, 442. 

She Stoops to Conquer, 246, 250, 442. 

Shooting Niagara : and After, 349. 

Shortest Way with the Dissenters, 212. 

Shylock, 128, 437. 

Sidney, Sir Philip, 64, 81, 99, loi ff., 
107, 109, III, 112, 144, 147, 412, 
420, 422, 435 ff. 

Siege of Corinth, 300. 

Silas Marner, 376, 377, 446. 

Silent Voices, The, 407, 447. 

Silent Wo 771 an. The, 137. 

Sir Charles Grandiso7i, 236. 

Sir Launcelot Greaves, 238. 

Sir Pati'ick Spe7is, 81, 82. 

Sir T7'istre77i, 48, 49, 56, 411. 

Skelton, John, 93, 94, 412. 

Skylark, To a, 308, 444. 

Smith, Sydney, 415, 420. 

Smollett, Tobias, 238, 414, 421, 423. 

Sohrab a7id Rustwn, 384, 385, 446. 

Solitude, On, 166. 

Somersby, 397. 

Somersetshire, 273, 284. 

Song of Roland, 37, 49. 

So7ig of the Shirt, 416. 

Songs of Experience, 26 1. 



472 



INDEX 



Songs of Innocence, 261. 

Sonnets, 94, 107, iii, 112, 122, 123- 

126, 147, 170, 172, 173, 281, 387. 
Sonnets from the Portuguese, 386-388, 

416, 446, 448. 
Sonnets, Shakespeare's, 112, 123-126, 

127, 143, 412,422. 

Southey, Robert, 270, 283, 323, 326, 

415, 420, 421,423,424. 
Southwark, 69. 
Spain, 109, 160, 300, 437. 
Spa7iish Friar, The, 187. 
Spanish Gypsy, George Eliot's, 416. 
Spanish Gypsy, Middleton's, 142. 
Spanish Nun, The, 324, 444. 
Spanish Tragedy, 114. 
Specimens of English Dratnatic Poets, 

319, 436. 
Spectator, The, 210-212, 242, 440, 441. 
Speculum Meditantis, 61. 
Spencer, Herbert, 332. 
Spenser, Edmund, 64, 103-iiiff., 

116, 117, 119, 144, 146, 147, 154, 

169, 184, 228, 229, 265, 412, 420 ff., 

427, 436, 437, 441. 
Spenserian Stanza, 106, 108, no, in, 

228, 264, 310, 437. 
Spring, Ode on the, 230. 
Stajizas for Music, 303. 
Steele Glas, The, 412. 
Steele, Sir Richard, 182, 207-212, 213, 

235, 242, 249, 414, 423, 440, 441. 
Sterling, John, Life of, 349. 
Sterne, Lawrence, 224, 238, 239, 414, 

420, 421, 423, 441. 

Stevenson, Robert Louis, 380, 416, 

421, 424 ff. 
Still, John, 97. 

Stones of Venice, 353, 446. 
Storie of Thebes, 76. 
Stow, John, 97. 
Strafford, 396. 
Stratford, 118, I20fif., 133. 
Strayed Reveller, The, 385, 446. 
Struldbrugs, 205. 

Sublime and Beautiful, Origin of our 
Ideas of the, 248, 249. 



Suckling, Sir John, 160, 413, 438. 
Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl of, 89, 

94, 95, 412, 418, 435. 
Suspiria de Proftmdis, 2,22. 
Susquehanna, 283. 
Swift, Jonathan, 182, 199-206, 208, 

212, 213, 215, 2i6, 234, 356, 414, 

420, 423, 440. 
Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 48, 334, 

416, 421 ff., 426, 446. 

Tabard Inn, 69. 

Table Talk, 258. 

Taillefer, 37, 49. 

Tale of a Tub, 202. 

Tale of Tzuo Cities, 361, 446. 

Tales from Shakespeare, 319. 

Tales of the Hall, 260. 

Talisman, The, 292, 444. 

Tamburlaine, 114, 115, 117. 

Taming of the Shrezv, 128. 

Ta??i O^Shanter, 253, 265, 266, 442. 

Task, The, 259, 415, 442. 

Tatler, The, 210. 

Taylor, Jeremy, 156 ff., 169, 198, 319, 

413, 420, 423, 438. 
Tears of the Muses, 107. 
Teazle, Sir Peter and Lady, 250. 
Tempest, The, 133. 
Temple, Essay on, 340. 
Temple,- Sir William, 190, 199, 201, 

203, 414, 421, 439. 
Te??iple, The, 164, 413. 
Tender Husband, The, 209. 
Tennyson, Alfred, 48, 63, 271, 305, 

327. 32,3, 331^ 359» 3^^, 391-AOI, 
416, 418, 420, 421, 424 ff., 430, 

445 ff- 
Testa j?ient of Creseide, 77. 
Teufelsdrockh, Diogenes, 346. 
Thackeray, William Makepeace, 332, 

360, Z^']-Z13, 311, 379, 380, 416, 

420, 421,425, 446, 448,451- 
Thalaba, 415. 

Thistle and the Rose, The, 77, 78,411. 
Thomson, James, 214, 227-229, 250, 

252, 275, 414, 423, 441, 



INDEX 



473 



Thyrsis, 385, 416, 446. 

Tiger, The, 262. 

Timber, 139, 412. 

Timon of Athens, 131. 

Tinte7-n Abbey, Lines cojnposed above, 

132, 277. 
Titania, 127. 
Titans, 311, 317. 
Tithonus, 404. 
Tito Melema, 378. 
Titus Andronicus, 126. 
Toilette of the Hebreiv Lady, 324. 
Tom Jones, 237,414, 441. 
TotteVs Miscellany, 95, 412, 435. 
Towneley, 83, 434. 
Toxophilus, 92. 
Tragedy, 96, 97, 114-117, 118, 126, 

127, 129 ff., 134, 137, 138, 140, 142, 

143, 156, 177, 187, 193, 207, 229, 

250,419,435. 
Translating LLo})ier, On, 357. 
Traveller, The, 244, 245. 
Treasure Lsland, 380. 
Triamond, 108. 
Trinity College, Dublin, 199. 
Tristram Shandy, 238, 414, 441. 
Troilus and Cressida, 131. 
Troilus and Criseyde^ 67, 77. 
Trojan Romances, 42, 49. 
Trollope, Anthony, 380, 416, 421, 425. 
Trossachs, The, 290. 
Troy, 49, 67. 
Troye Book, 76. 
Truth, 258. 

Turner, J. M. W., 352, 353. 
Twelfth Night, 129. 
Two Gentlemen of Verona, 126. 
Two Voices, The, 401, 447. 
Tyndale, William, 89, 92, 151, 412, 

422, 432, 435. 
Tyndall, John, 332, 
Tyrannic Love, 187. 

Udall, Nicholas, 90, 96, 412. 
Ulysses, 404, 447. 
Underzvoods, 138. 
University Wits, 113, 114, 118. 



Unto this Last, 354. 

Unwins, The, 257. 

Ur7i Btirial, 158. 

Utopia, 91, 92, 148, 283, 412, 435. 

Vanbrugh, Sir John, 194, 414. 
Vanessa, 203. 

Vanity Fair, 368, 372, 446. 
Vanity of LLuman Wishes, 241, 414. 
Vathek, 256, 415. 
Vaughan, Henry, 165, 413. 
Venice, 128, 137, 388. 
Venice Preserved, 193, 414, 439. 
Venus and Adonis, 122, 123. 
Versification, 5 ff., 11, 12, 17, 18, 39 ff., 
50, 51, 53, 60, 7iff., 8off., 94, 95, 
97, 106, no, ii4ff., 142, 146, 166, 
167, 171, 176, 187, 192, 216 ff., 228, 
259, 265, 276, 281, 284, 291, 307, 
310, 384, 386, 401, 429. 
Vicar of Wakefield, 239, 245, 414, 441. 
Vice, The, in Moralities, 90. 
Victorian Period, 335, 359, 381, 399, 

420, 421, 427, 447. 
Victoria, Queen, 399, 447. 
Village, Lite, 260, 415. 
Virgil, 78, 95, 188, 412. 
VijgiVs Gnat, 107. 
Virginius, 415. 
Virgins, To the, 162. 
Vision of Poets, 387. 
Vittoria Corombona, 143. 
Volpone, 137. 
Vox Clatnantis, 61. 

Wace, 41 ff.,48. 

Waldhere, 8, 410. 

Wales, 321, 429. 

Waller, Edmund, 165, 167, 413. 

Walpole', Horace, 239, 256. 

Walton, Izaak, 158, 159, 413, 421, 

438. 
Wanderer, The, 21, 429. 
Warner, William, 113. 
Warwickshire, 120, 373, 378. 
Waterloo, 301, 372, 444. 
Waver ley, 289. 



474 



INDEX 



Waverley Novels, 289, 339, 415. 

^Vay of the World, The, 194. 
Webster, John, 143, 156, 413, 421, 

436. 
Weissnichtwo, 346. 
Welsh, 42, 43, 230. 
Welsh, Jane, 345. 
Wesleys, The, 224, 253, 442. 
Westbrook, Harriet, 306. 
Westminster Abbey, 66, 104, 135, 137, 
189, 210, 211. 

Westminster Review, 373. 
Westminster School, 135. 
West-Saxon, 23, 24, 26 ff., 30, 31,429. 
Westzvard Ho ! 416. 

West Wind, Ode to the, 308, 309, 444. 

Whii7is and Oddities, 416. 

White Devil, The, 143. 
" Why so pale and wan, fond lover ? " 
160. 

Widsith, 5-7, 21, 22, 410, 428. 

Wife of Bath's Tale, 61. 

Wife's Cojjiplaint, The, 21. 

Wilhelm Meister, 345. 
William HI, 188, 417, 439. 
William the Conqueror, 37. 

Will Summer'' s Testament, 114. 
Wilson, John, 415. 
Winchester, 27, 29, t^-^. 
Windsor, 66, 77. 

Windsor Forest, 218, 227. 

Winter's Tale, 133. 



Wishes to his Stipposed Mistress, 165, 

Wish, The, 166. 

Witch, The, 142. 

Wither, George, 146, 147, 413, 421. 

Woman Killed with Kindness, A, 
142, 413. 

Women Beware Women, 142. 

Worcester, 33, 34, ?>t„ 93. 

Wordsworth, Dorothy, 284. 

Wordsworth, William, 132, 233, 251, 
268, 269, 270-281 ff., 287, 288, 291, 
294, 297, 298, 306, 307, 314, 321, 
323, 326, 328, 330, 334, 400, 415, 
420, 421, 424, 443, 445, 446. 

Worthies of England, 157, 413. 

Wulfstan, 25, 32, ^T,, 410. 

Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 89, 94, 95, 412, 

435- 
Wycherley, Wilham, 194, 414. 
Wyclif, John, 38, 56-58, 89, 92, 151, 

411,421,432,433,435. 

Yahoos, 205, 341. 
Ye Mariners of England, 326. 
York, 32, 83. 
Yorkshire, 16, 50. 
" Yon ask f?ie, why, though ill at ease," 

447- 
Young, Edward, 214, 224, 229, 250, 
414, 441. 

Zeus, 311, 312. 



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